The Enemy of My Enemy...
by Aitrus5
Summary: The Last Hunter, John Castaway, has finally captured Demona, and he has terrifying plans for her that include Angela and Goliath. Can enemies work together against a common foe? A serious and character driven epic work.


The Enemy of my Enemy. . .pt 1.  
By Tim "Gabriel" Reynard  
T12345r@aol.com  
  
Disclaimer---Gargoyles and all characters therin are  
the property of Disney and Buena Vista, yadda, yadda  
yadda. . .no profit is being made by this fanfiction.  
  
Many a hearty thank you goes out to many a friend particularly   
Constance 'Eilonwy' Cochran, and Pogo, for their editing.   
  
WARNING: This story contains torture and graphic violence. Mature   
Readers only please.   
  
This story takes place after The Journey, and ignores all Goliath  
Chronicles episodes afterword.  
  
I've spent a very long time writing this...hope I get at least a little   
feedback on it, I'm just glad to post it!  
  
And now, on with the show!   
  
  
*****  
  
Dominique Destine slammed down the phone,   
making the indentations in the oak desk even deeper.   
"Incompetence!" she snarled into the air.   
"I'm surrounded by incompetence!"  
She slumped back in her chair and blew back a   
strand of hair that had escaped the confines of her   
black hair band. Making her way in the human world   
was frustratingly boring at times. She remembered   
Thailog had had much more business savvy for it than   
she ever did. Of course, he had been subliminally   
programmed with Xanatos's outlook on life. Which   
had also given him some nasty personality quirks   
that Dominique might have appreciated all the more   
had they in the end not been   
directed at her.   
The President and CEO leaned back over her desk   
and growled as if she was in her true form. She began   
slowly, agonizingly,   
to go over the various papers and reports and notices and   
all the dirty work that had somehow slipped her mind when   
she had first pictured herself as the co-owner of a   
multinational conglomerate spanning several continents.   
Oh well. The money had to come from somewhere. What   
she really needed was a personal assistant to handle   
most of the grunt work. A sudden image of Owen Burnett   
came to mind and she smirked. The poor Puck was probably   
bored to tears being Xanatos's majordomo. And now that   
that whelp of Xanatos was born, that cursed fey was probably   
changing diapers and wiping up spit and getting up in the   
middle of the night at all hours. That brought her some   
vengeful comfort. Human children were so weak and pathetic.   
They couldn't even crawl or feed themselves for months after   
they were born. She glanced at her pink-skinned, puny-nailed,   
undeniably human hand. She admitted it had many uses.   
Now that she no longer slept in stone during the day, she   
could move generally unmolested among the human folk, plotting   
their downfall from within. And with her immortality, she did   
not even miss the healing properties of the stone hibernation.   
She glanced out the massive wall-sized window that every   
penthouse office seemingly must have. Another day, another   
company taken over. The sun would go down in fifteen minutes.   
Time to change.   
Dominique walked to the wall opposite of the large window   
and pressed some buttons in sequence on the keypad situated at   
eye level. A hiss sounded behind the wall and seconds later   
a door slid open to reveal a small changing room. She entered   
and stripped. Annoyingly constricting human garments fell to   
the floor in a heap. She tossed them through a hole in the   
wall that she believed led to the a laundry room somewhere;   
she had never bothered to find out. All that mattered was that   
a different outfit, clean and pressed, seemingly appeared as   
if by magic every time she came back to change clothes. Even   
if she couldn't find a competent assistant, the cleaning service   
was damn good. She let out a slight happy sigh as she slid on   
her loincloth and halter top. Whatever human had invented the   
brassiere should be flown as high as could   
be flown and dropped.  
She donned her gold headband and bracer, twirled once in   
front of the mirror just for the hell of it, and strode out to   
stand in front of the wall-sized window. She had a perfect view   
of the round yellow globe of the sun. It was just touching the   
horizon, the shadows were already lengthening and deepening. Only   
minutes to go.  
Her fists opened and closed in anticipation and she tensed,   
waiting for the change to come, and the pain that would accompany it.   
Only the first time, the dawn after the Puck had left, had it not   
been painful. She had been asleep when it happened, and had been   
awakened by the sun on her face. She had rushed to the  
window in happy disbelief, basking in the warm glow of the sun,   
staring around at the wonderful brightness, the warmth. Everything   
was more vibrant, and she was shocked beyond belief at how different   
the colors looked under sunlight rather than simple firelight.   
Then with the next sunset, came the pain. The terrible, awful   
pain. When it was over, she lay there gasping, wings and body   
drenched with sweat, feeling as if she had been in a battle for hours.   
She could not, would not, believe she would be subject   
to such pain for the rest of her eternal existence. She had tried   
every conceivable painkiller known to man, even those that were   
not legal. She had tried exotic herbal potions and pills,   
old mystic cures that she had encountered in her centuries of   
searching for mystic artifacts. Nothing worked. Nothing would   
dull the pain. Rather, it was as if the pain knew she was trying   
to stem it, and then when the change came again it was brutally   
more intense. Her only consolation had been that if Macbeth was   
near, he was feeling the same way. And so she had learned to   
live with it, as she had learned to live with the fact of being   
immortal, watching the world age, watching humans and gargoyles   
be birthed and grow, wither and die. While she lived on, never   
aging, eternally alone.  
Her teeth ground together as she stared defiantly at the   
sun as it disappeared below the horizon. The moon's silver   
light fell across her form.  
It always started in the gut. . .  
"AAAAAAAAAGH!" she screamed out, doubling over. She felt   
her organs shift around each other, some melting into themselves,   
and new ones that human science would never classify push to the   
surface to take their place. It was like she had swallowed molten   
rock, and the feeling spread all along her body.   
She felt and heard over her shrieks a horrible grating  
sound as her bones strengthened and hollowed, little pricks of   
pain in her elbows, knees and feet as the protuberances grew.   
Her height advanced as she pushed herself up on her clawed toes,   
watching her skin turn blue. There was a sucking sound as   
her fifth and fourth fingers merged with a whimper in the back   
of her throat. A new tail curled around her legs.  
A million needles were stabbed into her skull as her fangs pushed their way forward, one slicing her tongue. She felt with her new talons   
the bony brow ridges as they shoved her skin outward. A burning   
heat grew steadily in her head, and she knew her eyes were glowing.  
All this happened in the span of a few seconds, but the   
worst was yet to come. She shrieked in agony as the skin on her   
shoulder blades bulged grotesquely outward as if two burrowing worms   
were trying desperately to reach the surface of the earth.   
Her wings burst forth and unfolded, still wrinkled and   
leathery. They would fill with blood within seconds.   
The pain ended as quickly as it had begun. She shuddered   
reflexively once and straightened, cursing the Puck once again   
for inflicting this pain on her, night and day. Stretching   
her corded muscles, she flapped her wings once and smiled   
toothily. The human form did have its advantages, but they   
paled in comparison to her true winged form of a gargoyle.   
"To thine own self be true," she murmured. After being   
cooped up in an office all day, she needed a good glide, to   
feel the wind on her skin. She went to a side window off the   
large one and opened it on sliding rails. Stepping outside   
on the ledge, the breezes threatened to topple her. She   
stood their for a minute, letting the wind ruffle her hair and   
ripple her wings.  
A laser blast underneath the ledge she was standing on   
interrupted her reverie, and she fell back into her office with   
a snarl of surprise. Instantly, she rolled behind the wall and   
peered around the corner with one eye, which opened wider as  
she beheld the threat.   
Three dark blue helicopters with the hammer symbol   
on their engines rose up from the depths of the clouds, doors   
opening to reveal what looked to be 15 or more of the hooded zealots   
howling and shrieking death threats. Demona's eyes   
narrowed. The building's security defenses should have been   
activated by the presence of unauthorized air intruders. What was   
wrong!? She didn't have time to ponder the unfortunate   
occurrence as three of the Quarrymen launched themselves at the   
large window, hammers leading, shattering it instantly. These were   
obviously shock troops, as they did not roll with the impact,   
but lay there shaking, staggering as they got up. She shook her   
head in amusement and hurried forward. If the humans wanted   
their incompetence to get them killed, then she would oblige   
them. Made her work that much easier. One gave a half-yell   
as she swept him aloft with one hand and nonchalantly tossed him   
out the window. The other two hurriedly came to and stood   
as she advanced on them. One ran forward and tried to give a   
frightening howl but it came out as more of a monkey's squeal.   
She dodged the clumsy swing, plucked the hammer from his grasp   
and kneed him in the stomach. He sank to the ground, gasping red   
liquid and staring at the blood pooling on the floor   
from his stomach. She swirled her finger on her knee and licked the blood.   
Not spicy at all.  
The third appeared to show no fear as she turned   
towards him. Then he took a step back and began whirling his   
hammer in defensive moves and looking quite the fool in her opinion.   
"Oh, please," she laughed mockingly. She let her eyes glow   
red and hissed at him. He faltered and the hammer whirled out   
of his hands to smash into a small cabinet that contained a number   
of small Brazilian crystal gargoyles she had had made. She   
frowned at the case, then snarled at the man.   
"No, no, no." she said, picking up the hammer of his now   
dead companion. "You throw hammers at the target, fool. Like this."   
And she hurled it end over end straight at him with a powerful toss.   
The man stood frozen in place, then took a step sideways too   
late as the hammer crashed into his head, crushing his skull into   
a pulp.  
She turned back to the copters which were deafening now that   
the window had been smashed. Two hovered closer and at least   
15 more Quarrymen leapt into the room. Some were carrying hammers,   
others had weapons that she couldn't identify at a   
glance. Her eyes shrank to red slits. This was no longer amusing.   
In the old days she would have just plunged into them biting and clawing.   
While it certainly was soul-satisfying, it usually got her into   
trouble, and even if she was immortal, dying was painful and she   
had experienced it enough over the centuries to be sick of it   
altogether.  
Demona reached under her desk and pulled out a laser rifle   
and began firing into the crowd. Some were cut down immediately,   
others were fast enough to catch the blasts on their hammers and   
other weapons. One held up a gun that had what looked like a massive   
silencer at the end and pulled the trigger.   
The projectile whistled through the air towards her and   
exploded open, becoming a massive net that settled over her body.   
She winced, hoping it wasn't one of those damnable electrified nets.   
It wasn't. It was however, made of extremely tough material;   
no matter how many times she bit and clawed it, it would not   
break. She thumbed the laser into wide range mode, and fired straight   
through the net at the marauding humans. Many dove out of the way,   
yelling as the wide, but weaker beam stunned their bodies, and they   
moved like newborns, trying to get the feeling back. The   
net however, had disintegrated, and she tossed the burnt remains   
away with a flick of her tail.   
Her crimson-eyed gaze swept over the wretched rabble.   
"When will you, the most pathetic of all humans, learn not to   
attack me!" she yelled. The Quarrymen that remained standing quickly   
fired at her, piercing her rifle, making it blow up in her hand   
with a painful flash. Snarling, she wrung her hand, and slinked   
further behind the desk. A slight tingling sensation began as   
her skin healed rapidly.   
Another Quarryman hurled a grenade that dropped directly   
behind her and began releasing a green gas. She choked and coughed   
and flung herself over the desk and directly into their path, which   
she grudgingly knew was what they had planned.   
Stumbling shakily, she cried out as blows from the hammers   
crashed down on her back and ribs, bringing her to her knees.   
She veered towards the window, to the helicopters. If she could   
just get to the skies, she would be all right. . .  
Picking herself up, she lunged through the expanse of   
humans, slashing wildly with the last of her waning strength.   
She could already feel her ribs knitting back together and she   
gritted her teeth at the added pain. She reached the window and   
practically fell out of it, falling below the copters, and finally   
snapping her wings open. Swooping low and caught a thermal   
about a hundred feet from the copters, circling, wincing as her   
body healed itself.   
~I don't care what has to be done tomorrow.~ she thought.   
~I'm taking the day off.~  
She groaned as she saw the Quarrymen load their injured into   
the copters and then head straight for her, laser fire blasting.   
She swooped and dodged and headed away as fast as she could glide.   
This was so much easier in the old days when it was just one Hunter,   
not him and his thousand monkey soldiers.  
A booming explosion to her right stunned her for a second.   
Her hearing was silenced in the second her voice took to let loose an   
oath that had not been heard by this world for centuries. She   
stared down at the ground, seething as she saw the Quarrymen now  
had anti-aircraft guns. Another explosion to her   
left caused her to veer warily. The annoying laser fire still   
crackled from behind and she instinctively dodged each burst.   
Suddenly, one of the ground bursts exploded directly   
in front of her, causing her to stop short, or fly right through   
a chunk of superheated lead.   
The helicopters screamed in close in behind her. ~Oh no. . .~  
Demona screamed in pain as her right wing was raked with a   
multitude of tiny holes, and she flailed around erratically   
in circles like a broken kite she had once seen a child fly   
in Central Park.   
Her last thought as the ground rushed up to meet her head   
was that this was not a good night for her.  
  
*****  
  
"Oooooh. . ." Vague, blurry shapes swam in and out of   
her vision, like she was underwater. It hurt to much to even hold   
her head up, so she closed her eyes, relaxed and let her body   
heal itself. When she felt reasonably well, she opened them   
again, and looked around.  
She was lying on a metal bed with a curious basin with a   
drain in the floor surrounding it. A harsh neon light burned   
directly above her stomach, just bright enough to make her eyes   
water a bit. Her wings were stretched out and tied by their tips   
to rings fastened to the wall. Her wrists were bound to the sides   
of the bed, while an I.V. led from the back of her hand to an empty   
bottle hanging on the bedpost. Her legs were strapped down at   
the ankles. She was effectively immobile, except for her tail and   
head, which she raised in order to look around.   
The room was a dull white color. The table and a chair besides it   
seemed to be the rooms only furniture. The harsh odor of disinfectant  
made her wrinkle her nose. Many cupboards lined the walls,  
below them, drawers and there were shelves full of beakers and measuring  
devices and other scientific equipment. She eyed the door, in which a   
slit would no doubt admit food sooner or later, but she wasn't going to find her way out of here trussed up like this.  
She methodically pulled at her bonds, one wrist, then the   
other. They were strapped tight across and screwed to the bed   
frame, no help there. She supposed that when her full strength   
returned she might be able to break them. Now she could only slump   
back and wait. Someone would come to see her sooner or later, answers  
would be forthcoming. She had actually been expecting an attack   
from the Quarrymen for some time now. The Hunter, or Castaway as the   
wretched human seemed to be calling himself now, knew of her dual   
nature. She had been attacked before while on the wing,   
but she had always been able to escape and slaughter a few of the   
malicious humans in the process. Never had she expected to take on   
an entire army and in her own office, to boot. Cocking her head, she  
listened, hearing keys clinking in the door.  
It swung open with a creak and a human in a Quarryman outfit   
strode in, hammer in hand. With him came a small, wizened little   
human with a long mustache and goatee. Not a hair graced his head,   
it was as if it all had migrated down to the front of his face.   
He immediately went to the I.V. bottle, muttering to himself and   
making notes on a clipboard he held. The Quarryman just stood there   
at the foot of her bed, staring down at her, eyes narrowed. She   
snarled at him. "Release me, Quarryman dog! So that I may reward   
you for this affront with your own head!"  
The Quarryman laughed in her face. "No, Demon. I'll not be   
releasing you. Not anytime soon." he said, pulling off his mask.  
She grew cold. It was Castaway, the last Hunter, of the house   
of Canmore, who stood before her. His gray eyes glinted coldly   
underneath sandy blond hair. She curled her lip. "So, at last you   
have me, Hunter. Enjoy your minor victory, because it won't last.  
When I get out of here I will cut you and your Quarrymen monkeys down   
like the stinking dogs you are." she hissed.   
He walked up to her, and leaned over. She flinched as he ran   
his hand up her neck and cupped her chin with his fingers. "You are   
not going anywhere, beast. Rave all you want, nobody can hear you."   
She snapped at his hand, which he yanked back just   
in time. "Ah, the Demon spits fire!" he chuckled.   
He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.   
"Now you listen to me, gargoyle bitch!" He growled in her face.   
"At last, I have you. I'd sooner slit your throat than look at   
you and don't think it that it doesn't takes all my willpower not to   
slam this hammer into your head this second!"  
She just stared at him with hatred.   
He straightened, in control of himself once more. "But there are   
certain. . .shall we say, agencies who have taken an great interest in   
you and wish to get to know the 'real' you. . .from the inside out."   
He grinned shark-like at her. "They have generously donated many funds   
to my little er. . organization and would be most displeased if I   
finally ended the hunt tonight. So dream of me, Demon, slayer of   
my father, slayer of my father's father, bane of my entire existence!"   
he yelled in her face. "Because I will return after they have   
had their answers . . .and then the Hunt will finally end,"   
he hissed.   
Demona spat in his face. "Yes, it will end, Hunter, with my   
claws soaked in your blood. . ."  
He wiped away her spittle as if it were acid. "I will learn   
your secrets, Demon. I would know how you have eluded my family   
for so long." As he turned to walk away, he whirled with a sudden   
move, charged his hammer, and slammed it with all the   
force he could muster into her stomach.  
"Ahhhhhh!" she screamed, straining at her bonds as the   
electricity arced through her body and pain exploded in her   
bowels. He held it there, watching her writhe in agony, a huge   
terrible smile etched on his face.   
"That's enough, Castaway!" the small man, forgotten until now,   
said. "The specimen will not survive much more!"  
Castaway lifted his hammer and looked at the man. "You'd be   
surprised at what this *specimen* can survive, Doctor." He leaned   
back to Demona and picked up her head by her hair, looking straight   
at her. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did." She could   
only gurgle, half-concious, shaking her head feebly. He tossed her   
down and stalked out of the room. "Remember to inform me of   
anything she says," he yelled back at the doctor as he strode out.  
The Doctor waved him away, as he knelt over the massive wound   
to her abdomen. The skin was blackened around the edges from the   
electricity, and the square-shaped wound itself was turning a   
rather morbid shade of yellow. "Tsk, tsk," he said. "And I did   
so want a healthy specimen for my needs."  
"Just. . .wait. Human," she gasped. The Doctor looked back at   
her angry face, astonished. He had heard of the legendary gargoyle   
stamina, but this?   
She began making a moaning sound and he stared back at the   
wound. The blackened skin was peeling away, revealing the natural   
color, and the wound itself was pushing itself, distending upward,   
to pop back into the same plane of flatness as the rest of her stomach.   
When her abdomen was whole again, she slumped in her bonds   
and stared with half-opened lids at her captor. He was rubbing his   
hands together in glee. "Splendid, splendid, absolutely marvelous."   
he was muttering.   
"What do you mean to do with me. . ?" she murmured.   
"Eh?" he turned his head, seemingly forgeting about her already.   
"Oh, nothing now, nothing now. Though that will change, yes it   
will, yes it will," he said, staring off into space. Then the   
befuddled look faded and was replaced by eyes that were glazed over   
with insanity. "And I don't think you'll like it, no you won't!"   
he said gleefully. He was running around the room, now wringing   
his hands, and muttering, ". . .determine the extent of the   
healing factors. . metabolic rates. . ." he trailed off as he ran   
out the door.   
Demona sank back into her bed, her tired mind awhirl with the   
unthinkable thought that she just might be in over her head. . .  
then blackness closed over her eyes and she slept.  
  
*****  
  
She awoke to the sound of buzzing, like a thousand bees were   
swarming around her. Without opening her eyes, she snarled,   
"Turn that blasted thing OFF!"  
The sound abruptly ceased with a whine, and she opened her   
eyes to see the Doctor fiddling with a round-bladed surgical bone   
saw. She awakened rather hurriedly after that. He glanced at her,   
then at the saw. "Well, you needn't shout, this thing isn't THAT   
loud." he said indignantly.   
"What. . ." she said, swallowing. "What are you going to do with   
that?"   
"Eh?" he said. "Oh, you mean this?" he indicated the saw, which   
he frowned at as if he had never seen it before.   
"Yes, you stupid human!" she said warily, a pit of fear growing   
in her stomach.   
"It's quite simple, really." he said, scratching his head.   
"What else would you do with a saw, but cut something off?"  
Sweat broke out on her face.  
"I mean, really, it's self evident, you'd think a member of an   
intelligent species such as yourself would realize that." He   
rolled his eyes. "You think I use this as an alarm clock to wake   
myself up?" He looked at it with a new eye. "Although, that might   
be an idea. . .combination saw and alarm clock. . .sure give those   
clock-radios a run for their money, eh?" he chuckled, elbowing her.   
Demona did not take her eyes off the saw.   
The little man rolled up his sleeves and spat into his hands.   
"Now lie still, my dear, this is apt to get messy, and it won't help   
matters if you thrash about." He picked up the saw and flipped it   
on with a flip of his hand.   
"Let's see now. . ." he said, leaning over her right wing.   
The saw buzzed obscenely and she saw her stricken expression reflected   
in the spinning, razor sharp blade.  
She suddenly realized what that strange basin with the drain   
around the bed was for as he brought the saw closer and closer to her   
wing, and she began to quake in terror.   
"No. . .NO human! Stop! No! Stop! Please!" She was horrified   
to find herself pleading at the human.   
He stopped the saw and stared at her, a look of annoyance on   
his face. "All this noise," he scowled. "How can one do his job   
properly?" With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out   
some surgical tape, which he tightly gagged her with. "Now,   
back to business. . ." He turned on the saw again and leaned   
over her wing.  
Demona shut her eyes and prayed to pass out quickly.  
  
*****  
  
Faint, muffled sounds penetrated the cell walls   
and thick door, drifting out into the hallway beyond. The   
Quarrymen guards remained at their posts for a full ten minutes   
before finding an excuse to shuffle away to where the vague, yet   
chilling sounds could no longer be heard at all.  
  
*****  
  
Hours passed, and finally the Doctor sank into a chair besides   
the bed, wiping his sweating forhead, then gazing in annoyance at   
the blood on his hand, realizing his forehead must now bear the   
same stain. He looked up at the door as it creaked open.  
Castaway strode in, bearing a slight smile as he beheld the   
Doctor's handiwork. "I must say, doctor, you've taken the term   
'biopsy' to new heights."   
The Doctor frowned, then brightened as he got the joke.   
"Yes, well, it was a trial, let me tell you! The creature cursed   
and screamed and carried on like nothing I have ever seen. I gave   
up trying to gag her after she bit through the tape three times.   
I considered removing her tongue, just to give my ears some rest."   
He shook his head in amusement. "But enough about me, this creature   
has the most extraordinary healing factor I have ever seen! Absolutely   
marvelous! Any physical damage at all, from a simple pinprick,   
to actual limb removal simply regenerates in a matter of minutes!   
The healing comes at the only cost of great pain to her. I have   
been monitoring her metabolism, and it is operating at a phenomenally   
accelerated rate! It was as if I was watching a wound heal through   
time-lapse photography. . ." he shook his head in awe. "And there   
are so many tests left to do."  
Castaway nodded. "This is all very fascinating, Doctor, but   
did she ever speak about how she gained these abilities? Do you   
have any clue as to how the gargoyle can accomplish this?"   
The little man shook his head. "She said nothing but   
curses and death threats against my person." he   
shuddered. "Some were quite graphic."  
"I'm sure," Castaway said, motioning for him to continue.  
"Her metabolism is off the charts when the cellular regeneration   
is taking place, and yet she seems to draw little or no energy from her body's reserves. I am at a loss to explain how this is taking place." The   
man frowned. "More tests may yet reveal her secret."  
Castaway turned to the scarred and mutilated gargoyle, frowning   
as the massive scars were slowly vanishing from her body. "If she   
is healing, why isn't she awake from the pain?"  
The Doctor indicated the I.V. bottle. "That is filled with a   
potent drug to keep her asleep. The drip is almost a flow, because   
her system metabolizes it minutes after it takes effect. And I'm not   
even going to tell you the trials of keeping a needle in her body when   
the flesh forms in the hole seconds after you stick the bloody   
thing in!"  
"Wake her up."  
"As you wish."  
The Doctor simply reached over to the Demon's hand and pulled out   
the needle, shutting off the valve in the process. A bit of liquid   
coursed through the needle to spill on the floor, then stopped.  
Demona groaned in pain, and her eyelids fluttered. Her body   
began trembling with remembered pain.  
"Come on Demon, wakey, wakey!" Castaway smirked, and charged   
his hammer, holding the crackling head right up against the soles of   
her feet.  
Demona's eyelids snapped wide and she let out a shriek as her   
body contorted as much as the bonds would allow.  
The Quarryman leader removed his hammer. He leaned over the   
gargoyles panting face and watched as her eyes slowly focused upon him.   
"So. . .ready to talk, monster?" he said casually.  
If gazes were fire, he would have been ashes. Demona glowered at   
him. "You wretched Hunter," she snarled at him.   
"When I am finally free of this place, what has been done to me this   
night is nothing compared to what I will do to you."  
"I look forward to seeing you try, beast." The Quarryman laughed   
mockingly. "But now I need you to answer a few questions for me. Or   
else I'll turn you back over to him." He jerked his head in the   
direction of the Doctor, who started, looked behind himself and   
frowned as he beheld nobody.   
She looked over at the little human and shuddered once.  
"I'll take that as a yes." He looked at the Doctor. "Now   
leave us and wait outside. I would speak with this monster in private."  
The Doctor hurried out, a confused look on his face.   
Castaway glanced down at her. "As you may have surmised,   
he is a tad insane, but useful. Now, where were we? Oh yes,   
that little matter of your extraordinary healing abilities."   
He stared into her eyes. "The Doctor thinks that he will find   
a medical reason for your ability. I know better. It took   
ten centuries of hunting to finally make my sister Robyn   
realize that you had eluded us for all these years because of sorcery."   
Demona smirked, the last traces of the scarring vanished.   
"Naturally. Only your family could be so stupid as to not realize   
an obvious fact such as that for 10 centuries. Typical human   
weakness."  
Castaway growled. "Do not make me angry, Demon, or we will see if   
your healing abilities extend to being beheaded."  
She bared her neck to him. "Come on then, you stupid,   
pathetic little man. I have lived centuries of horrors that   
would shred your soul. I have died countless times, in ways that   
are more horrible than you could ever imagine. And I have   
survived it all. I will survive this. I will still be around   
long after you are dead and dust in your grave." She smiled,   
flashing her fangs. "And I will be the one that put you there."  
He drew back from her burning gaze and went livid. He was so   
angry that for a moment he could not even speak, his mouth opened   
and closed like a fish. Finally, he brought himself under control   
and looked at her coldly. "I shall know your secrets, Demon."   
he said calmly. "Through you, I shall finally send your   
blasphemous kind down back to the hell from which you came. . ."  
She snorted. "I care little for your so-called righteous   
motives," she said mockingly. "And just how do you plan   
to accomplish this?"   
He stared at her, cocking his head. "You will tell me."  
Demona shook her head in amusement. "And what makes you think   
I will tell you anything, human?"   
"Oh you'll tell me all right, Demon." He laughed softly.   
"When I'm through with you, you'll beg to tell me anything I   
desire!" He yelled to the air. "Doctor!"  
The wizened man hurried in. "Yes?"  
"Continue with your tests."  
"With pleasure, Castaway."  
"I shall return in the morning. I have. . .business to   
attend to."  
"Yes, yes." The little man waved him away. Castaway strode   
out the door.  
The Doctor turned to Demona, rubbing his hands together.   
"Now. . .where were we? And no snarling, or I'll yank your teeth out!"  
  
*****  
  
"Neigh! Pbpbpbpbpbp!"   
David Xanatos, billionaire extraordinaire, was not used to   
taking orders. In fact, he was not used to doing anything against   
his will. But, he admitted, there were exceptions to the rule.  
His favorite exception was riding atop his shoulders now,   
gurgling happily as he jogged around the nursery.   
"Horsey!" cried Alexander. "MORE horsey!" He waved a   
grubby fist in the air as the other one grasped a lock of his   
father's hair.  
Xanatos sighed, but grinned inwardly as he galloped around   
the room. Sometimes to tire your kid out, you had to do whatever   
it took.   
A click and a bright flash stopped him and he turned, Alex   
still cooing happily as he pulled at his ponytail.  
Fox grinned wickedly as she pulled out a polaroid from the   
camera. "This should look quite good up on the Illuminati   
bulletins next month."  
Xanatos walked over and smiled at his wife, who was stunning even   
in a flannel nightgown. "Don't you dare," he grinned.   
She looked up at her son, happily chewing on her husband's   
hair. "Isn't he tired out yet? It's almost sunrise."  
He handed Alex to her and hugged her tightly as she tickled   
the squirming baby's tummy. "I remember my mother telling me that.   
I used to get up in the middle of the night squalling all the   
time. Guess he takes after me." He tugged on his robe.  
Fox chuckled. "At least he's not levitating near the ceiling,   
like last time."  
Xanatos rolled his eyes. "Thank God for small favors."  
Owen appeared behind Fox, impeccably dressed even at this   
late an hour. "I have taken the liberty of preparing a bottle   
for young Alexander."   
Xanatos plucked the bottle from the stoic man. "Perfect   
timing, Owen. As always." He gave the bottle to Alexander,   
who greedily sucked away.  
Fox smiled down at her child. "My baby. . ." she said softly.   
She looked up at Xanatos. "You know David, in all my years, I   
never once saw myself as a wife, much less a mother. I was too set   
in my ways. Always on the move. Life was too exciting   
to settle down. And now. . ." She looked at her smiling husband   
and the now half-asleep child. "I can't imagine having it any other way."  
Xanatos hugged his wife. "That's what happens when you marry   
the most eligible bachelor of People Magazine for five years in a row."  
Fox elbowed him, smirking. "I hope Alex doesn't have your ego."  
Owen interrupted with a slight cough. "If I may interrupt   
sir, the sun is about to come up and the gargoyles will be landing   
at any minute. If I may, I will put Alexander to bed, so that you   
may say good day to them."  
Fox handed Alex to Owen. "Owen, what would we ever do without   
you?"  
"I shudder to think, Mrs. Xanatos." he said with a deadpan   
expression as he turned away and nestled Alexander in his crib.   
Alex immediately wrapped his arms around the gargoyle doll and sucked   
his thumb, falling fast asleep.  
Xanatos chuckled. "Shall we, my dear?" He indicated the door.   
"We have enough time to dress before they come back. I'm fully awake   
now as it is."  
"Of course you are. You've been galloping hard all night." She   
grinned and hurriedly walked out towards their suite.   
Xanatos chuckled and followed.  
Owen watched them go, then dimmed the lights. As he turned to   
leave, he heard Alex whine and the sounds of tossing and turning reached   
his ears. Owen went over to the crib and peered down with alarm at the   
nearly awake baby. He leaned over, opened his mouth, stopped and   
stared at the door, eyes narrowed.   
Seeing nothing, he looked down at the baby and parted his lips. . .  
  
*****  
  
Behind the door, Xanatos and Fox clapped their hands over their   
mouth as the soft tones of "Hush Little Baby" drifted out the open   
door. They held each other to keep from falling down laughing, then   
hurriedly walked to their suite, where they   
collapsed on the bed, tears streaming down their cheeks.  
"Now that," said Xanatos, regaining himself first. "...was   
priceless."   
"Yeah," gasped Fox, sitting up. "I have GOT to tape that someday."  
"All in good time, my dear, all in good time," he said,   
pulling on his clothes.  
Fox did the same. "So what's on the agenda today?"  
"Oh, same old, same old."  
Fox grimaced. "That bad, huh?"  
Xanatos threw a sock at her. "Not that kind of day. We   
haven't had any genuine danger for quite a while."  
"You don't consider boredom a genuine danger?"  
He laughed. "Grey hairs. That's my genuine danger."  
They finished dressing and walked through the halls of the   
castle, up to the highest tower. Bronx lifted his head when they   
appeared and they each gave him a scratch behind the ears. He   
slumped back down with a contented "wuff." They admired   
the twilight sky, the faint clouds appearing in the faintest of   
starlight, already fading. The city stretched out before them,   
far below. Xanatos smiled sinister-like down at the view. All his.   
Fox pointed. "There they are!"  
Bronx raised himself up on the rampart, and barked at the   
approaching dots.  
Xanatos squinted, and the dots became winged shapes, six in   
all, soaring towards the castle.   
He nodded to them as they all landed.   
"Good morning Goliath. Patrol go all right?"  
"Xanatos. Fox." Goliath rumbled in greeting, keeping his voice   
neutral. It was still hard to accept the fact that they were living   
with one of their former enemies. "The night went well. No major   
crimes to speak of."  
"What brings ye up here at this time of night, laddie?" Hudson   
cocked his head.  
"Oh, Alex woke up in the middle of the night, and Owen just   
finished putting him down once again." He snickered at Fox, who   
smiled back.  
Lexington spoke up. "Alex is all right, isn't he?"  
Fox shook her head. "No, no, he's fine. As happy and healthy  
as can be. I don't know what I'd do without him."  
Goliath glanced at Angela and smiled, who smiled back in return.  
Broadway glanced at the horizon. "The sun's about to   
come up, guys. Assume the position."  
Brooklyn glared at him. "You've been watching too many of   
those COPS shows."  
"Hey, they do a good thing! Maybe we should take a camera   
along with us when we bust some crooks!"  
Lex snorted. "And which one of us is going to carry a huge   
camera while stopping a mugging?"  
Broadway glared at him. "I would."  
Brooklyn laughed. "Well, you've certainly got the frame for it."  
Angela cuffed him on the head. "Now stop it." She   
shrugged at Goliath. "I swear, it sometimes seems like they've   
just come from the egg."  
Goliath just gave his clan a slight smile, then assumed his   
pose. The rest of the clan assumed their respective   
positions also, and the suns rays broke over the horizon. They   
fell upon the gargoyles forms and they beheld the briefest of   
sunrises as they turned to stone with a crackling sound.  
Xanatos shook his head and smiled. "Never get tired of that."  
"Me neither." Fox said.   
Xanatos never heard Owen appear behind him, rather he sensed it.   
"Yes, Owen?"  
Fox whirled. "I swear Owen, you are the one person who can   
sneak up on me." She glared at him.  
Owen peered at her over his glasses. "I'm terribly sorry,   
Mrs. Xanatos. In the future I shall try to be more conspicuous."  
"Think nothing of it Owen. Why don't you tell the cooks to   
make us some breakfast?"  
"Already done, sir. And I believe it is a Sunday."  
"Pancake day!" Xanatos grinned.  
Fox sighed. "For a ruthless businessman, you sure can be a   
child sometimes."  
Xanatos glanced at her innocently. "Can't an owner of a   
multinational corporation enjoy his meals?"  
Fox pursed her lips. "Not when he insists that the pancakes   
be made in the shape of Mickey Mouse."  
"So I like them the way Mom used to make. Sue me."  
"I already have access to all your money." she   
grinned wickedly.   
"Not all of it." he wagged his finger in her face.  
"One day I'll find all of your secret accounts."   
she smirked.  
"Of course. And I'll find all of yours one day as well."   
It was an ongoing game for them.  
"Let's eat, shall we?"  
"Of course."  
They retired to the dining hall, where they sat next to   
each other. Xanatos clicked on the television that sat in one   
of the walls. Owen appeared with two trays and set them before   
the two. He lifted both covers, revealing all manner of breakfast   
food, and a newspaper besides each plate.   
Fox immediately turned to the sports section, read frantically   
and slammed her fist down besides the table. "Damn!"  
Xanatos looked up from where he was pouring just the right   
amount of syrup on Mickey's ears and face. "Something wrong?"  
"The Islanders lost again!"   
Xanatos chuckled. "Sometimes I think the reason you're so   
aggressive is because you watch too much hockey."  
Fox glared at him, tattoo crinkling, and spooned up a pile   
of eggs, which she aimed carefully. "Don't start with me, David."  
Xanatos put up his hands in surrender. "Save it for the   
sparring session."  
Fox yawned. "Why bother? You know I'll just mop the   
floor with you." She grinned and lifted up the newspaper to hide   
her face.  
Xanatos just smiled and ate his pancakes as he glanced at   
the stocks section.   
Owen said nothing and stood immobile. He turned his stoic   
gaze to the television news, which poured forth all manner of   
weather reports, last nights murders and sob stories. His eyes   
suddenly widened a millimeter. "Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos,   
I'm sorry to interrupt, but if you'd kindly direct your attention   
to the news at hand." He grabbed the remote and thumbed up   
the volume.  
Xanatos and Fox watched curiously as the voice of Travis   
Marshall became audible.  
". . .Marshall coming to you live from the penthouse office   
of the New York branch of Nightstone Unlimited, where it appears   
the President of this multinational conglomerate, Dominique   
Destine, has been kidnapped."  
The camera panned around a large office not unlike Xanato's   
own. The entire wall window was smashed, and broken furniture and   
the occasional blood splatter ruined the decor of the room.  
Xanatos and Fox sat up straight and cast each other quick   
glances.  
"The abduction, according to preliminary reports, took place   
right after sunset last night. It was reported this late after   
the incident apparently because according to the staff, Ms. Destine   
does not allow anybody into her private office after   
sunset on pain of termination. We mean job termination, of   
course." Marshall chuckled briefly.   
Xanatos snorted.  
"There are sketchy witness reports, that three helicopters   
were hovering around the building at approximately the time of the   
kidnapping. Also, there was a large sledgehammer of mysterious   
construction found at the scene. More on this will   
follow, live from this reporter. This is Travis Marshall,   
signing off."  
Xanatos clicked off the television. "So. The Quarrymen   
have Demona."  
Fox nodded at him. "What should we do? We owe Demona   
nothing. She'll probably break out of wherever she is sooner   
or later."  
Xanatos smirked. "I pity those Quarrymen, actually. And   
the gargoyles will find out sooner or later as soon as they   
turn on the t.v. We'll tell them when they awaken."  
"If nothing else, it will be interesting to see how   
they react."  
"Yes, indeed." Xanatos said. He sipped his coffee.  
  
*****  
  
The three helicopters raced above the lower cloud level,   
engines specially made to be almost silent, they were reduced   
to a loud hum. Inside the lead helicopter, a Quarryman donned   
his helmet, and opened a radio channel to the other helicopters.  
"Okay people, this is it!" he yelled harshly. "Remember,   
as soon as we get the signal from the others at the power   
station, we go in and grab the female beast."   
One of them raised his hammer. "Do we have permission to   
smash those others Xanatos has?"  
The leader shook his head. "Sorry, but no. Castaway's orders.   
"But feel free to. . .inform Xanatos just   
how much we dislike his harboring those monsters in our fair city."  
The other man nodded once and caressed the head of his hammer.  
  
*****  
  
Fox and Xanatos were peeking in on Alexander, who was   
thankfully still fast asleep, when Owen appeared behind them   
like a faint whisper. "Mr. Xanatos, we have a problem."  
They whirled and both frowned. "What is it, Owen?"   
said Xanatos hurriedly.  
"There are three attack helicopters approaching from the south.   
Scanners indicate a hammer symbol on their engines. It's the   
Quarrymen, sir."  
Xanatos wasted no time. "Take Alexander down to the lower   
levels then meet me and Fox up in the courtyard."  
"At once, sir." Owen quickly moved past them, gathered up   
Alexander and whisked him away.  
"You go-"  
"Activate the security systems, I know." Fox finished.   
"You just get into your exo-frame and I'll meet you in the courtyard."   
They kissed briefly, tenderly, then hurried off.  
  
*****  
  
The copters flew closer and closer to the castle. The   
head pilot peered through a telescopic scanner at each of the gargoyle   
statues roosting on the tower. "There's our quarry." He pointed   
at the screen. "The female next to the big one."   
Another Quarryman tapped the screen away from the gargoyle.   
"What is that?" she said with alarm.   
The others crowded around and cursed as they saw several   
unassuming turrets disappear to be replaced by what looked like   
anti-aircraft guns. Several more smaller holes opened up in   
several flat areas and humanoid shapes began rising to the   
surface. "What are those things?" the pilot gasped.  
Another squinted. "They look like gargoyles. . .but it's   
daylight? A new breed?"  
"No," another said. "Look, the sunlight glints off   
them. They're metal!"  
"Robots!" the pilot explained. "Robots that look like gargoyles!   
Man, this rich boy really has gargoyles on the brain."  
"Well, when we're through with him, he won't have a single   
thing left to him, much less a brain." the leader said menacingly.   
"Hover here. . .and wait for the signal."  
  
*****  
  
Xanatos ran in his exo-frame through the   
halls out into the courtyard. His internal readout indicated   
all systems were go. He was linked to his Steel Clan, and their power   
levels were at maximum, waiting only for his radio   
signal to lift off.   
"Owen!" he spoke into his helmet transceiver.   
"Yes, Mr. Xanatos."   
"Is Alexander safe?"  
"Yes sir, I have placed him in the room specially designed   
for such an event."  
"Thank you, Owen. Would you please join me in the courtyard?"  
"At once, sir."  
He switched frequencies. "Is everything ready, my dear?   
What's the status of our uninvited guests?"   
"All systems are go, David, everything's running smoothly."   
Fox reported. "The copters are hovering just outside of weapons   
range. It's almost like they were waiting for something. . ."   
she said worriedly.  
"Hmmm. . ." said Xanatos, tapping a metal talon on his chin.   
"That's not a good sign."   
His eyes widened beneath his mask as he heard a sound over   
his comlink that sounded like a small explosion and a shriek from his wife. "Fox?" he said, voice thick with worry.   
There was no answer. All he could hear was static. "Fox!"   
he shouted into the radio.  
He whirled and used his boot jets to fly over the ground to   
the doorway leading to the castle proper. He clanked down the   
halls to the door leading to the main security computer. He kicked   
it open, augmented muscles tearing it off its hinges. Smoke   
billowed out, he fell back involuntarily from the heat. "FOX!"   
he screamed.  
"David!" a coughing cry sounded.   
He turned up the coolant in his suit to full flow and plunged   
into the flames. He switched on his thermal vision and saw   
among the flickering and flashing of the fire an outline of a body   
in the corner.   
"Fox!" he said, sweating inside his suit. He emerged from the   
flame like a red demon and examined his bruised and coughing wife.   
Her skin was reddened and black in places with soot.   
"Are you all right?" he said anxiously.  
"I'm fine." she coughed. "Just get us out of here!"   
He looked around to find something to wrap her in, as she was   
not in armor as he was. He frowned when he saw nothing, not even a   
damned tapestry. Only one thing to do.   
He gathered her in his arms. "Careful, my dear," he said.   
"Cover your eyes."   
She did so as his forearm laser snapped out of its mounting   
and blew a hole in the back wall. He flew through the opening, turned   
around, and activated his fire-supression unit. A housing snapped   
out of his shoulder and let loose a torrent of fire-retardent into   
the room, quenching the flames. He flew back to the courtyard,   
rocket engine screaming.  
He met Owen in the courtyard, and set Fox down on her feet.   
"What happened, Fox?" he said urgently.  
She gritted her teeth. "There was a massive power feedback   
from our generators. Basically fried everything in our arsenal.   
The aircraft guns don't work anymore, hell, we can't even turn on   
a damn light!"  
"I believe the Quarrymen have done this, sir," said Owen,   
unaffected by the chaos. "They must have done something to the   
power flow that our generators draw from. But all is not lost."   
He pointed to the Steel Clan. "They have their own   
power source. And you and Fox are a formidable fighting force,   
as am I."  
"That's what I like about you Owen. Always looking on the   
bright side," Xanatos said. He frowned as the helicopters flew low   
over the castle and hovered over the statues of the gargoyles. "If   
you'll hand Fox a laser rifle, I believe the situation can be   
rectified within the hour."   
One helicopter dropped out five ropes and five Quarrymen   
skittered down. They were not carrying hammers, but each held   
part of a large harness. They landed near the statue of Angela   
and began wrapping it around her.  
Xanatos grimaced. Better to have a few cuts and bruises the   
following night rather than face Goliath after he had found out his   
daughter had been taken by Quarrymen. He activated the Steel Clan.  
Simultaneously, mechanical wings slid outward and extended out   
with an audible clack. Jet engines ignited with a rumble and red   
eyes flashed as seven Steel Clan robots lifted off the ground   
towards the helicopters. Xanatos lifted off as well, gunning his   
engine and following his robots.  
Fox and Owen ran for the gargoyles tower, powering up their rifles.  
  
*****  
  
"My God!" said one of the Quarrymen. He had ceased   
wrapping the rope around the beast and stared at the robotic   
gargoyles.   
"Keep your eyes on your work, fool!" another shouted.   
"They're why we brought the other squadrons!"  
The other doors opened on the copters and five Quarrymen   
each stepped out, jet packs igniting instantly, laser pistols   
glinting in one hand, hammers crackling in the other.  
An aerial battle broke out, men and robots dodging and   
twisting around each other's fire.   
Most of the Quarrymen instantly blasted at the robots,   
intending to knock them out of commission immediately. Most of the   
robots dodged, but two took hits to the wings, damaging their   
steering, and they careened about wildly. The rest instantly snapped   
out forearm lasers and fired mercilessly at the crowd of humans.   
One jet pack exploded and belched smoke, sending the screaming man   
into a dive that carried him beyond the castle wall and towards the   
Manhattan streets.  
Another Quarryman twisted himself out of the way at the last   
minute and stuck out of his hammer as a robot flew by. The hammer   
was torn from his hands, but he watched in satisfaction as the robot's  
head crumpled like a crushed soda can, and it fell to the   
castle ground and exploded.   
Two more Steel Clan robots weaved their way through lasers   
and used their razor-edged wings to slice gaping wounds in a   
pack of grouped men. One man clutched at a gaping wound in his   
abdomen, spinning wildly in his jet pack as he fluttered back to   
a helicopter. The other gaped stupidly as his hand fell off at   
the wrist, still clutching his hammer. He screamed a moment later,   
as Xanatos's laser caught him right in the chest.  
As the aerial battle continued, down on the turret, Owen   
and Fox battled the Quarrymen who were fighting to put the carrying   
harness onto Angela. Two were holding them off, while two struggled   
with the harness.  
Fox blocked several punches from one man and lashed out   
with a kick, striking him in the stomach. He fell back, gasping.   
"Why don't you be a good little Quarryman and tell me why you   
want this gargoyle?" she said harshly.  
The hooded man got to his feet. "I'll tell you nothing,   
bitch!" He launched himself at Fox, who ducked and hurled him   
over her shoulder, far down into the courtyard where he landed with   
a crunch. "That'll teach you to use such language in my home," she   
hissed.  
Owen was methodically blocking every punch and lashing out   
with his fists. The man leaped back, snarled, then whirled and   
threw his hammer at Fox. She turned too late to duck and it   
glanced off her head, sending her to the ground with not even   
a groan. Before Owen could react, the Quarryman leapt over and dragged   
Fox's limp form and held her with both hands over the edge of the   
castle. "Don't move, blondie," said the man. "Or Xanatos's bimbo   
gets a little flying lesson."  
Inside Owen something stirred, alerting him. He smiled,   
startling the Quarryman more than anything else had. ~At last.~   
He took off his glasses and put them in his shirt pocket.   
The man stared at the stone-fisted man as he began to whirl   
in place like a spinning top. With a bright flash of emerald light,   
the stoic man transformed into a small elf-like creature like   
something out of a muppet movie.  
The Quarryman would've rubbed his eyes had he not had his   
hands full at the moment. "Who. . .what in the hell are you?" he   
nearly yelled.  
The creature hovered off the ground, sitting in an Indian-style   
position, chin resting on the backs of its long-fingered hands.   
"Who am I?" it said rather merrily. "I have many names. Trickster,   
deceiver, manipulator, do you have a thesaurus   
handy? There are so many synonyms. . ." he grinned hugely. "As   
for what I am, that is for me to know, and you to find out! I   
will tell you this, however." He gestured, and Fox was plucked   
from the man's hands and set gently on the ground. The man   
however, was levitated up about 30 feet. "I am a certified   
flight instructor, as you can see." Puck indicated the space between   
himself and the ground. "I believe you said something about a lesson?"   
He gestured again and the man went hurtling towards   
the castle grounds far below with a yell. "Don't forget to   
flap your arms!" the Puck giggled.   
"Now," the Puck said, turning to the Quarrymen who remained   
next to the gargoyles, staring at him with wide eyes. "Who else   
wants flying lessons?" He grinned wickedly and wiggled his nose.  
They climbed up their lines so fast, the Puck shook his head.   
"Nobody ever wants to play with me!" he pouted. Then he ducked as   
several pieces of robot fell past him. "Yikes, it's raining robots!"   
He zipped up towards the remains of the aerial battle.  
  
*****  
  
Xanatos gritted his teeth and restrained himself from flying   
down the minute he noticed Fox getting struck. He continued   
taking shots at the remaining airborne Quarrymen, of which five   
remained. There were only two of the Steel Clan left.   
He shook his head. He really must program them to be able to   
counter that damnable trick of flying two of them into each other.   
For all their advantages, they were only robots, and the Quarrymen   
learned quickly. And being lighter, they were more agile in the air.   
Two Quarrymen took off after him, dodging his blasts and   
screaming for his death. Weak laser shots bounced harmlessly off   
his armor, or were absorbed. The heat was incredible, nonetheless,   
and his cooling systems were already overtaxed.   
He had to take these two down hard and fast. He opened his jets to   
their fastest speed, then hugged a tower as he flew around it.   
He braked hard once he was sure he was out of their line of sight,   
and waited.   
The first one flew past him without seeing, and he grabbed at   
the ankle of the second one, augmented muscles contracting, stopping   
the man cold, sending his hammer and rifle flying to the ground.   
He wrapped a metal-clad hand around the man's hooded neck,   
and stared coldly into his face. "I don't take kindly to intruders."  
he said. Reaching out, he shredded the man's jet pack, slammed his   
head into the wall, and let him drop like a stone.   
Xanatos turned and winced as he saw a thrown hammer headed his way,   
filling his vision. "Ah, sh-"  
The hammer crashed into his facial armor, totally blinding his   
visual sensors, making him see stars. He wiggled his jaw and facial   
muscles inside and cringed in pain. His nose was probably broken.   
But more than that would happen if he couldn't bloody well see!   
He struggled with the helmet, trying to yank it off   
without further damaging his face.   
"You know, you shouldn't play with tools like that. You could   
get hurt!"   
He heard the sound of magic being cast. His heart leaped.   
"Owen, I knew you wouldn't let me down," he murmured.   
He finally wrenched the helmet off with a slight cry and beheld   
the remaining Quarryman being chased towards the helicopter by a group   
of man-sized hammers with red eyes and toothy mouths. He looked at   
the Puck, floating besides him, whistling innocently. "How'd you   
come to be here? Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily.  
"Really quite simple, Mr. X!" the Puck beamed. "These   
Quarrymen threatened you and Mrs. X with bodily harm! Young Alexander   
would be harmed greatly in many ways if his daddy and mommy were no   
longer on this plane of existence, eh?"  
Xanatos grinned. "A loophole."  
Puck winked. "Hey, I live for loopholes!"  
They both peeked around the tower. The Steel Clan was entirely   
destroyed now, and the remaining Quarrymen had gathered around the   
statue of Angela again, hooking the harness around her. Fox was   
still unconscious.  
"Let's go, Puck. You hit em' high, I'll hit em' low."  
"Oh, you're SO good at these complex plans!" the Puck laughed.  
"I don't have time for games."  
The Puck chuckled as they flew towards the choppers.  
  
*****  
  
The copters were filled with groaning Quarrymen in various   
stages of injury. The pilots frantically yelled over the radios.   
"Steel gargoyles, stone-fisted men, giant hammers, even a damn magic   
elf! Who the hell IS this guy?"  
The leader glowered with fury, as he stared at the steel-clad   
rich boy and the little man flying towards them. "Time to do some   
real damage!" he said. "Fire the missiles! We'll take them all out   
and get away with the female in the confusion!"  
  
*****  
  
Out of two of the helicopters underbellies emerged two rockets   
each, locking into position with a clack. Xanatos was the first to   
notice them with a groan. "Puck! Take care of those missiles!" he yelled as he headed towards the third helicopter, which had succeeded in harnessing Angela and was hauling her off her perch.  
The helicopters let loose four missiles, that blossomed orange   
fire and screamed their way towards the tiny Puck and the massive   
castle behind him.   
Puck stared at the missiles bearing down, then at the Xanatos,   
then back again. He held up his thumb and forefinger in a "o"   
shape. "Why don't you ask me to make the Sisters stop speaking in   
threes while you're at it?" he muttered as he turned to the   
shrieking missiles in front of him. He cracked his knuckles.   
"Okay, this is going to take some rhyming. Something simple.   
Something crafty. . ." His eyes lit up. "I have it!"  
  
"Tools of man that would mar this land  
Do you now as I command  
Go back I plea, from whence you came  
And wreak your havoc, quell our bane!"  
  
His eyes and mouth glowed green with eldritch light,   
and he leaned forward as it burst from his body to engulf the   
missiles. He hovered tiredly and gave a slight smirk as the   
glowing missiles halted in mid-air, turned a full half circle,   
and rushed back towards the two helicopters that had spawned them.   
Puck smiled as his sharp ears picked up a collective shriek from the   
human's flying machines. He'd always worked best under pressure.   
  
*****  
  
"Magnificent!" exclaimed Xanatos as he saw the Quarrymen spill   
out from the two copters as fast as they could before the missiles   
hit them. Both copters exploded in massive balls of orange fire,   
and they fell to the ground like two phoenixs   
perishing in the flames. He examined the body of his wife at a   
glance while he flew towards the third helicopter. She had a deep   
gash along her right temple, and her skin was very pale. She'd survive.   
She'd had worse. Of course, that didn't make it all right. . .  
Angela was far enough off the ground by now that he couldn't   
just fly or blast through the ropes, or she'd plummet a thousand   
feet to the ground. And to make matters worse, he couldn't fly   
very fast at all, without his helmet to cut the   
wind tearing at his eyes. He also couldn't tell what systems were   
damaged without the internal readout display. He had to do this   
quickly, or he'd get a laser through the head.  
  
*****  
  
The Quarrymen had not lost hope yet. It had however, been   
severely shaken. They had nabbed their quarry, however, and if   
they could just escape with it, maybe Castaway would forgive the   
fact that they had lost more than half their number,   
including two helicopters. He would not forgive failure to capture  
the quarry.   
That hope died when a pair of metal talons ripped a hole   
below the passenger seat of the copter and the red metallic gargoyle   
burst through the gaping portal, to aim a forearm-mounted laser at   
the head of the pilot. They realized they were looking at   
Xanatos himself.  
"Nobody move," he said. "Or else this copter is going to   
join its two friends."  
One scoffed. "You won't shoot him, you fool. The monster  
might smash if this copter spirals out of control. You wouldn't   
want that now, would you, rich man?"  
"Of course not." said Xanatos. "But you can't tell  
me you plan to threaten me with the gargoyle's life, not when you've   
gone to considerable trouble to abduct her. And then there's him."  
He jerked his thumb out the window. They all looked and saw the elf wave   
hello and, to their horror, waggle its ears.  
"He'll catch the gargoyle if it falls. Way before you are all   
charred ash and little hammers on the ground, I'll have flown the   
coop." He suddenly remembered the news report. "Oh, and by the   
way, what are you doing gargoyle-napping Demona? You know you're   
just asking to get disemboweled."  
One Quarryman's eyes glittered. "We don't know what you're   
talking about."   
"Course you don't." smiled Xanatos cheerfully. "So, what's   
it going to be?"  
The man smirked. "I don't make deals with gargoyle harborers."   
And he grabbed a laser rifle, thumbed it to it's highest setting,   
took aim out the open door at Fox, and fired.  
"NO!" Xanatos shrieked, dropping out of the copter, deal   
forgotten.   
"Full throttle!" the Quarryman said to the pilot. "MOVE!"   
The helicopter sped away with all the speed it could   
muster, winging it's way south, the statue of Angela trailing   
along behind them.   
Puck hastily formed a magical shield around the unconscious   
woman, but that was not the laser's target. It sliced through the   
rock next to the fallen woman, and as the rock disintegrated, she   
slipped off and fell towards the castle ground.   
Xanatos flew as fast as he could, not caring that the wind   
was tearing his eyes inside out. He had to reach her in   
time! "PUCK!" he yelled frantically.  
But the Puck was way ahead of him. By the time he had   
gotten there she was already encased in a magical globe, being   
gently lowered to the floor. He landed and cradled her in his arms.   
"Fox. . ." he said chokingly. "Wake up! Please!" He wiped softly   
at the blood staining her face, turning her hair a darker shade of auburn.  
She did nothing for a few moments, the only sign of life was the  
rise and fall of her chest. Then with a slight shudder, her eyes   
opened half way, and she coughed. "D. . .David?" she moaned, raising a   
hand to his face.   
He nearly sobbed in happiness. "I'm here, Fox. Shhhh. . .I'm   
here." He stroked her hair softly.  
"The. . .baby? Alex?"  
"He's fine, Fox. Safe and sound." he stroked her arm. No need to   
tell her now about Angela. It would just place unnecessary stress on her.  
He heard a sound like a whirlwind and looked up to see Owen   
approaching.   
"Sir, I will see to getting the medical facilities up and   
operational as fast as possible."   
Xanatos sighed. "Thank you, Owen." Owen turned to leave.  
"And Owen?"  
The man stopped and turned back.  
"Thanks for all your help. For. . .everything."  
Owen allowed himself a small smile. "You're quite welcome, sir."   
He turned away again and walked hurriedly towards the castle proper.  
Xanatos cradled his now sleeping wife in his arms and stared   
around at the bits of rubble and blood and twisted metal and   
dropped hammers. His gaze swept over the gargoyles, still ever   
vigilant in their watch, and he wondered just how the hell he was   
going to explain all this to Goliath.  
  
*****   
  
Castaway strode down the brightly lit hall, eyes hard and cold.   
He gave slight nods to other Quarrymen who passed by him. Stopping by   
the cell door that led to the gargoyle's prison, he bade the guards   
stand aside. The door swung open smoothly, and he strode in. He   
noticed the Doctor asleep in a chair besides the bed, which was   
covered by a sheet, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. With a   
frown, he hurried over and slapped the man to the floor, grimacing   
with distaste as dried blood flaked off onto his hand.   
The Doctor sat up with a snort, hand going to the his   
stinging cheek. "Now whatever was that for!?"  
"Get up you fool!" Castaway hissed. "You were sleeping!"  
"I was resting my occular muscles."  
The Quarryman hauled up the little man by his lab coat collar,   
and heaved him back into the chair. "The Demon could've escaped!"  
The Doctor snorted. "The 'demon' as you so term her is now   
nothing more than a healthy human female. See for yourself." He   
drew back the sheet.   
Castaway could not help but inhale sharply. The wings were   
gone entirely, and the shapely figure of a woman rested on the   
bed, sleeping, her face relaxed in exhaustion. Her loincloth and   
halter were quite form fitting. Her features and body were essentially   
identical to her gargoyle frame. The I.V. bottle was connected to   
her hand, no doubt the reason for her current state.  
Then his eyes narrowed and hands clenched involuntarily in  
to fists. This was still the Demon, it had merely assumed another   
form. He turned back to the Doctor. "When did this happen?"  
The Doctor checked his watch. "Right when the sun rose. At   
almost the exact same second. This creature never ceases to   
amaze me," he said, warming to the subject. "I'll be publishing   
papers on this for years! The seemingly unlimited healing factor  
was one thing. But this!" he shook his head. "Never have I seen   
such a thing. I was preparing the creature for another test, when   
all of a sudden it screamed extremely loud. Have you ever heard a   
wildcat scream? Just like that. I thought I had missed removing   
some of the needles, but I was wrong. . ." he trailed off.  
Castaway stared at him, exasperated. "And?"  
"It was. . .fascinating! Words cannot describe it. But the   
camera has recorded it for posterity. You can see it for yourself."   
The Doctor trundled to a cabinet, and opened to reveal a small   
television with a VCR installed beneath it. He grabbed a tape   
from a small table and slipped it in. "I believe an apt title is   
'Metamorphosis'" he said, chuckling as he pushed rewind, then play.  
Castaway watched as the static coalesced into an overhead   
picture of the Demon, he winced when he heard it shrieking in rage.   
He had heard those screams before. On the night of his father's   
death. He studied the screen, eyes taking in every detail as the   
creature writhed.  
"You will pay a thousandfold for this treatment, human filth!"   
the gargoyle yelled to someone off camera.  
"I'm being paid more than that for this data I'm collecting,   
my dear." a voice, clearly the Doctor's said.   
"When I get out of here, I'll. . ." she paused, and her eyes   
widened in shock.  
Castaway hardened himself, but winced when he heard her shriek   
in agony.  
He stared as her skin turned the color of his own, lightly   
tanned. Her wings folded in on themselves and sank into her back   
with a sucking sound, as she continued to strain reflexively against   
her bonds, which creaked alarmingly. She moaned as her hands sprouted   
a fifth finger, and her entire form strained as bones shifted. All of   
her bone protruberences retracted, as did her brow ridges. He gazed,   
expression neutral, as her scream died down, and she slumped,   
exhaustion evident in her features. He now stared at the beautiful   
face of Dominique Destine.  
"Truly marvelous," said the Doctor, clicking off the remote.   
"I wonder what initiates the change. The sunlight? Gravitational   
pull?"   
"All I want to know is, does the healing factor extend to   
this form as well?" Castaway said, without turning towards the Doctor.  
"Again, see for yourself," the Doctor said. "I haven't   
had time to do many tests yet." He grabbed up a scalpel and grasped   
the Demon's hand. She stirred only slightly as he ran it along her   
palm. Blood welled out of the cut, as red as her hair.   
As Castaway watched, the would slowly closed, sealing itself   
in seconds, leaving not a trace of its passing.  
"I am willing to bet my degree that the same healing abilities   
apply to this form of the creature. I wonder. . ." he mused. "Do   
you suppose the gargoyle is the true form, or is the human?" He   
rubbed his hands together. "More testing will be required. . ."   
Castaway said nothing, sneering at the woman in hatred. "I   
need no more tests, Doctor," he said.   
The Doctor stared at him. "What did you say?"  
"I said, I need you no longer. We obviously cannot torture   
the secrets out of her, as much as I would enjoy it. She will heal   
and come back stronger than ever." He growled under his breath.  
"No, to learn her secrets and use her as we please, we will   
require a different approach. One more directed at her mind than   
her body."  
The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Castaway, my employers   
directed me to gather every scrap of data on a gargoyle. I can   
hardly do my job if you do not allow me access to one."  
Castaway gave the little man a scathing glance. "This is no   
ordinary gargoyle, you fool. If every gargoyle could pass for a   
human during the day and was also virtually immortal, the world   
would have heard of them long before this. Besides, this was decided   
hours ago, when last you saw me."  
The Doctor pursed his lips. "My employers will not be pleased."  
"I care little about your employers. And do not worry,   
doctor, the little sadist inside you will soon be satisfied once   
again."  
The little man raised his brows. "What are you saying?"  
"We just received a report from our team in the field. They   
have captured the gargoyle I requested, and are on their way."  
"You have acquired another gargoyle!?" the Doctor sputtered.   
"Why?"  
Castaway smiled as he gazed down at Dominique Destine.  
"Nothing, my dear Doctor, is quite so strong as the bond   
between mother and child. . ."  
  
*****  
  
Elisa Maza stepped into the office of Dominique Destine and   
took in the scene with a practiced eye. Police officers covered the   
room like ants, searching for clues, taking statements from employees,   
and to her dismay, zipping up a couple of body bags. She immediately   
headed over to her partner, Matt Bluestone, who was peering out through a   
flap of canvas that had been stretched accross the giant wall window.   
She tapped him on the shoulder. "What have we got here, Matt?"  
He brought his head back in and sighed. "Lots of hammers, a   
helluva lot of broken glass and furniture, a kidnapped gargoyle and   
three dead bodies."  
She glanced around, seeing only two bodies. "They cart away one   
already?"  
"No, ah. . .they found the third one splattered all over a back   
alley behind the building. . ."  
Elisa blinked. "Looks like Demona put up a hell of a fight."   
"Ooooh, yes, you could say that. Question is, why would   
the Quarrymen kidnap Demona? And why not just kill her here? From   
what you've told me, seems like they'd just kill her on the spot,   
not waste several of their numbers capturing her."  
"Not to mention the risk of holding her."  
He cleared his throat. "What do you think Goliath's going to   
do about this?"  
Her eyes narrowed. "Good questions. Wish I had answers for you."   
"Yeah. . ." he stared around the destroyed office. "Those   
Quarrymen probably have their hands full with her." His cellular   
phone rang in his pocket. "One sec."  
He opened it and held it to his ear. "Bluestone. Hey Captain."  
Elisa walked around the room, taking in the damage.   
Dried blood sat in little pools amid the broken glass and discarded   
hammers. Broken bits of crystal crunched under her feet as she   
came upon a charred lump of metal that looked vaguely like a laser   
rifle. She shook her head, not really knowing why the hell she felt   
sorry for Demona. She'd tried to kill Elisa from the first night they'd   
met. Then again, maybe she felt more sorry for the Quarrymen, she   
couldn't decide which.   
A loud curse from Matt brought her back to the red-haired   
man's side. "What's up, Matt?" she said warily.  
He snapped the phone shut, but it didn't have the effect of   
slamming down a normal telephone. His tension unreleased, he gave a   
twisted smile to Elisa. "Are you ready for this? Chavez has   
assigned us to this case. How's that for irony?"   
She groaned. "I knew it. Just great. Even if we knew where   
to start, Demona won't be to happy to see my face as her rescuer,   
let alone thank me for it."   
Matt grimaced. "Yeah. . .well, life was getting a bit less   
difficult lately, I guess we were due."  
Her cellphone rang.  
"My turn. . .one second, Matt." She turned away.  
"Hello?"  
"Detective Maza, this is Owen Burnett."  
Her eyes widened. "What is it, Owen?"  
"I have some rather disturbing news. The Quarrymen attacked-"  
"What?!" she yelled, then flushed as she noticed Matt and   
the others staring at her. She hastily shooed them away, and moved   
to a corner. "The Quarrymen? Are the gargyoles all right? Is   
Goliath. . ." she broke off.  
She imagined she could see his eyes narrow in irritation   
at the interruption. "As I was about to say, Detective, the   
Quarrymen attacked only an hour earlier. The castle's defenses   
were sabotaged, leaving only Mr and Mrs. Xanatos, the Steel Clan,   
and myself to handle the predicament. We successfully routed them,   
but both Mr. Xanatos and Fox sustained injuries."   
~Damn the Xanatoses, what about the gargoyles!~ She felt an   
overwhelming fear engulf her, pool in her stomach. Elisa's heart   
pounded as Owen took a moment to cough lightly. "What about the   
gargoyles, Owen!" She felt like she wanted to break something.   
"Are they. . ." she broke off, gritting her teeth. ~They would've   
been stone, not awake when it. . .no! She couldn't think that.~   
"I am pleased to say that the gargoyles are all well,   
with the exception of Angela. The Quarrymen abducted her and   
escaped in the battle."  
Elisa gasped. ~Oh no. . .~  
"I am truly sorry, Detective." he said blandly, but she   
could almost hear a trace of emotion behind the dispassionate   
voice.  
"I'll be right over." she said, her tone of someone   
who would not take no for an answer.  
"Of course. Good day, Detective."   
She heard a click and the dial tone.  
She snapped her phone shut and raced past Matt, who   
grabbed at her arm. She tried to shake him off, but he held firm.  
"Hey, partner, where's the fire?"  
She looked up at him, and removed his hand forcibly.   
"I have to go Matt, the Eyrie Building was attacked by Quarrymen,   
Angela's been taken."  
His eyes widened. "Damn. . .allright, go, I'll call it in."  
"No!" she practically yelled. Matt frowned.  
"What, you want to admit you, the head of the Gargoyle   
Task Force, that you've known all along that gargoyles are living   
in the Eyrie Building? Only takes one cop to mention it to his family, no   
matter how much we lock it down, and eventually, where they live   
would become practically public knowledge. The gargoyles' lives   
would be ruined, not to mention the Xanatoses. The gargoyles are   
going to wake up in a few hours, with Angela gone, you don't want   
cops all over the place! Xanatos will report it when he has a story   
ready. . .but I'll keep you posted, okay?" She looked around.   
"Stay on this case. . .this can't be a coincidence, the Quarrymen   
gargoyle-napping Demona, then Angela the day after. . ."  
He nodded. "Already on it, partner."   
Elisa nodded once in return, and rushed out the door, heart racing.  
  
*****  
  
. . ."I hate you. . ." The spiteful voice that was and was   
not her own echoed through her head. . .  
  
. . .she gazed mournfully up at the castle, inwardly weeping   
without knowing why, the waves crashing behind her, she gasped as   
the first rays of sun touch her back. . .  
  
. . .she lay sobbing amid the rubble that was her clan, in a   
futile gesture, she frantically gathered up handfuls of different   
piles and clasped them to her as she cried . . .  
  
. . .she gazed at her love's stone face, tracing every saddened,   
tired line, that made him look much older. . .she brought her fingers   
to her lips, then pressed them lightly to his own. . .clasped his   
face in her hands and gently kissed his forehead, closing her eyes,   
blinking back tears, putting all her love and sorrow into a single   
touch to his cold face. . .and then she glided away, not looking back. . .  
alone. . .  
  
. . .shrieking, she lashed out at the stone blocks and rubble   
battering her senseless, and she fought to spread her wings and glide   
out of this hellish maelstrom. She saw her love leap from Wyvern's   
wall, and a part of her relished the second, even as her struggles grew   
feebler. He will not leave me. . .he still loves me. . . Then her   
eyelids flew wide as she twisted and turned in mid-air, before her   
fall carried her beyond the cloud layer, one scant second was burned   
into her mind forever. . .Her love enfolding the woman in his arms. . .  
the human. . .he saved her. . .he saved the HUMAN and not me. . !  
  
. . .Not me. . .  
  
*****  
  
Dominique's eyes flew open and she would've sat straight up,   
but her bonds were too tight and she merely raised her neck and   
glanced around wildly, frantically. For a moment, she had no idea   
where she was and then unpleasant memories reoriented themselves   
and she lay back and exhaled sharply. One of the nightmares again. . .  
she shuddered and felt sick. One primary reason she liked her   
immortal body was that she had to sleep very little. . .therefore,   
less time to suffer through the memories. . .  
She did not even bother to test her bonds, she was a human now,   
and subject to their pathetic strengths. She knew she needed only   
to wait, Castaway would slip up, one night or day, and then she   
would escape and have her revenge. A few centuries ago she had   
been buried alive by religious zealots who had overwhelmed her,   
thinking she was a vampire. It had taken her weeks to get out,   
dying over and over again due to lack of oxygen, digging upward for   
the few short minutes her resurrection had provided each time.   
She had all eternity to wait. . .and his entire lifetime to plan out   
a suitable punishment. Grinning wickedly, she ticked off the   
things she would do mentally.  
Her macabre list was interrupted as keys clanked in the door   
to her cell. The door flew open and the Doctor bustled in, flanked by four   
Quarrymen soldiers, hammers looped on their belts. He went   
immediately to her I.V. bottle, saw it was empty, then cupped her face, peering into her eyes.  
"Mmmhmmm. . .not dilated anymore, the drug has been   
metabolized." She growled low, reflexively, and stopped, having   
forgotten how insufferably stupid it sounded coming from her   
human throat.  
He looked at her strangely and then thumped her chest. "You all,   
come over here and hold her down while I loosen her bonds." He   
motioned to the Quarrymen.   
Her heart thumped wildly. Finally, a chance to escape, and   
get out of this infernal room!   
She went limp while they held her, offering no resistance. The   
Doctor unscrewed each of her straps cris-crossing her, and her  
underused muscles cried out as they helped her stand up. She shook   
each leg back and forth, while they had a tight grip on her upper arms.   
She looked around the room again, and her gaze fell to the floor,   
the one part of the room she had never seen, and she felt weak as   
she saw how copper-colored it was.   
"All right, let's go!" the Doctor grinned. "Forward, march!   
Ha! I've always wanted to say that!" The Doctor giggled to himself   
as he followed the Quarrymen half-carrying Dominique as they all   
left the room.  
She took the time to study the hallways. They were stark   
white, with identical doors on each side, all with a small window   
in them, like her room. They were lit overhead with small, harsh   
flourescent lights recessed into the ceiling. They passed a long   
hallway which ended in the distance at double doors, and there was   
a clearly marked exit sign at the end, which she noted. Offhandedly,   
she wondered where they were taking her. . .probably to another   
thrice-damned torture chamber. It was time to leave this place.   
The human's had a hold of her arms tightly, but left her legs free;   
they were, after all, four to her one. Poor, pitiful males. Whatever   
species they were, they all had the same vulnerability. . .  
With a rapid whirl, she twisted around and kneed upward in between   
the legs of the Quarryman to her left. He let go of her arm with   
a muffled screech behind his hood, and grabbed himself, falling   
to the floor. As he did, Dominique snatched up his hammer, charged   
it, and slammed it behind her head, sending the other one who had been   
holding her down like a felled ox. He writhed convulsively, blood leaking   
from his smashed mouth.   
Dominique laughed mockingly as the other two hooded zealots stood   
in shock. The entire thing had taken less than 7 seconds. She   
frowned as she realized she had slowed from the captivity.   
The Doctor was cowering behind the body of the moaning   
Quarryman. Of the two remaining, one barked something into a   
transceiver obviously hidden in his helmet/hood, then the two  
rushed at her, avoiding the swipe of her hammer, and bearing her   
to the ground with a thud.  
"How dare you use our own sacred weapons against us!" one   
yelled as he slammed an elbow into her kidney. She screamed in   
pain, and answered with a curse, punching upward with her open   
hand into his nose, driving the bone back into his brain, killing   
him instantly. She heaved him off her as the other raised his fists.  
With a wicked smile, she poked the hammer into his   
stomach and twisted harshly. He convulsed and fell off her.   
Dominique got slowly to her feet, wincing as her sore body let its   
presence be known. As she started to bolt away, a hand grabbed   
her ankle, and the one whom she had kneed waved a knife in her   
direction, getting to his knees. "You'll. . .pay for that, you   
bitch. . ." He winced and lunged at her.  
Dominique grinned wickedly as she dodged the clumsy   
move and grabbed the wrist and hand of the knife wielder as he fell   
to his knees besides her. "Do you accept steel?" she said, as she   
bent his hand around and thrust his knife. The man tried to scream,   
but all that came out was a choked gurgle as blood trickled from his   
throat. "I thought so."  
Her head shot up as alarm klaxons wailed in the distance. There   
was no time, in this form she had no chance against the many humans   
that would soon appear, and the element of surprise was lost. She   
went over to the cowering Doctor and hissed into the man's face.   
"I'll be back for you someday, you wretched human. . .and then you   
shall learn what it is like to be on the receciving end of such pain   
as you gave me. . .won't that be fun?" She lightly raked her nails   
over his face, noticing with distaste the puddle growing between   
his legs. "And here's a little taste. . ."   
"Wait! Wha-what are you do-AAAAAAH. . !" She broke the fingers on   
his right hand rapidly, one by one.   
The red-head laughed and grabbed up the hammer and knife, running   
helter-skelter between the bodies.   
Dominique slew or injured several Quarrymen coming out of doors,   
they were bewildered by the onslaught of hammer and knife, fist   
and foot. She made out with all the speed she could muster, pumping   
her legs as she ran down every which hallway, seeking the exit she   
had seen.   
After several wrong turns and a few more battles, wishing   
like hell it was night, she emerged into the large corridor leading   
to two double doors. With a happy gasp, she jogged toward it tiredly,   
the heavy hammer falling limply to the ground. Freedom was only   
seconds away and the puny lock wouldn't stop her from kicking the   
door down.  
So fixated was she on the exit, she didn't even notice a   
door-shaped crack in the wall besides her. It slid open into the   
ceiling and a hammer came crashing outward into her chest.  
Dominique fell to the floor, gurgling in pain, letting out pathetic   
wheezing noises as she tried to inflate lungs that had been pierced   
by broken ribs. She gazed upward, eyes glazed over in pain as she felt   
them move within her, going back to their proper places, regenerating.  
John Castaway stepped out of the door, sans helmet, hammer in   
hand, smiling widely.   
"Stop," he said, chortling at his joke.  
She tried to snarl and gasped in pain, trying to rise.  
"I don't think you want to escape right now, Demon," he said.   
Two Quarrymen ran up besides her from down the hall and pointed guns   
at her head. "Sir, what shall we-"  
"Don't interrupt!" Castaway hissed. The man shut up.  
She stood up, not caring about the pain, and tried to salvage   
her dignity.  
"And. . ." she gasped. "Why is that?"   
"Because. . ." he smirked. "You would be leaving behind another   
of your kind to face our tender mercies."  
"What?!" she yelled. What was going on? They had captured   
another of her kind? As far as she knew, Quarrymen did not take   
prisoners, they only slew. . . "Who?"  
"Why, I do believe you know her, my dear. . ."  
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she sagged back into the   
Quarrymen's arms who grasped her tightly.   
"No. . ." she whispered, shaking her head rapidly.  
"If I'm not mistaken, there's a certain family resemblance,"   
he said, grinning as he led her in.  
The men dragged her in and led her to a chair, strapping her   
limbs down, she offered no resistance, how could she?  
She could only let out a low moan as she stared at the stone   
gargoyle standing before her in a fierce pose, wings spread, claws   
outstretched, fanged mouth gaping soundlessly. It was marred only by   
manacles attatched to the wrists and ankles.  
The face was almost her own. . .  
"Angela!" she shrieked.  
"Ah, so that is the demonspawn's name," Castaway said, nodding.   
"We wondered. Rather ironic, isn't it? Such a blessed and lovely name   
given to something as unclean as that."  
"Let. Her. GO!" hissed Dominique between clenched teeth.  
He laughed and turned to Angela, caressing the smooth stone   
cheek with his fingers, "Such a pretty face. . .would be a pity to mar   
such beauty. . ." he said softly.  
"No!" Dominique said hotly, thrashing around futiley in the chair.   
"Touch her in any way and I will make you beg for death, Hunter!"  
"Funny you should use the word beg, Demon." Castaway turned to   
her. "Why don't you beg for me not to smash your vile spawn here into   
little pebbles. . ." He charged up his hammer and held the glowing   
head dead center in front of Angela's chest.   
Sweat broke out on her face, and her heartbeat reached new   
heights of speed. "You wouldn't!"  
"Wouldn't I?" said Castaway mockingly. "You know, most humans   
seem to find that it is their children that give them their   
immortality. I see it differently. As do you, apparently.   
Which shall it be, Demon? Your secrets, your immortality---or your   
daughter's life!"  
"The. . .the secret would do you no good, Castaway!" she said   
rapidly, desperatly. "It is useless to anyone save me and-" she   
bit her lip, cursing at her weakness.  
"Who? What are you saying! Speak quickly, monster!"   
She tried to regain some ground. " Hunter, if you-"  
"If I what?" he hissed, scowling as charged up his hammer.   
"If you do not tell me what I wish to know, I shall chisel off her limbs   
one by one." He stalked toward her chair. "I will make you watch   
when she comes to life and you can hear her screams and   
the pain in her eyes as she learns that she could be whole. . ."   
Castaway leaned down and looked directly into her eyes. ". . .but   
for her demon mother!"   
Dominique flinched and turned away.   
"And then I'll go after the other gargoyles, one by one. . .  
maybe I'll bore holes in that green goblin and use him as a bird feeder. . .  
that dog-beast's head would make an excellent trophy. . .and then   
there is Goliath. . ." he said with a hiss between clenched teeth.   
"I have special plans for he who crippled my brother. . ."   
Even though she tried to stop it, to force the feeling back,   
deep down inside, a small moan escaped her lips.  
He was not even looking at her anymore, wandering around   
the room caught up in his macabre vision, and Dominique began to   
realize that this Hunter was truly insane.  
"Well!? What shall it be, Demon!?"   
"I. . .I. . ." she stammered.  
"Not fast enough!" he roared as he brought up his hammer   
and sent it swinging down like a piledriver at the forehead of   
the helpless Angela.  
"WAIT!" Dominique shouted, the chair creaking alarmingly.  
Castaway smirked and lowered his hammer.   
"I. . ." she seethed inwardly. "I'll do as you ask. . ."   
Please. . .just don't hurt her. . .I. . ." she cursed. ". . .  
I beg. . .you."  
  
*****  
  
"Are we certain we are doing the right thing?"  
"It has been long in coming. The child must grow, after all."  
"Hard times have passed, but greater battles still await her."  
"She is strong. She will triumph."  
"We can only watch. . .and hope."  
"And do the same for the other."  
"Yes," they all chorused in unison.   
One slim, white hand dipped into the water, sending rings   
rippling across the vision of Dominique bowing her head in sorrow,   
teeth clenched, the blonde Hunter laughing mockingly before her.   
The ripples marred the vision and slowly it faded away, until all was   
crystal clear, leaving nothing but three identical reflections.  
  
*****  
  
A red Ford Fairlane abruptly cut off a brown Geo Metro and  
parked haphazardly in front of the Eyrie Building, the right   
front tire pushed up onto the curb. An angry-looking big man   
got out of the Geo and stalked up to the car as the door opened.   
"Hey!" he screeched. "That was my spa-. . ." He got no   
further as a black-haired woman got out and glared at him with   
such fury that he hurridly stammered out an apology and returned   
meekly to his car.  
Elisa raced up the stairs and entered through one of the   
two giant revolving doors, strode through the lobby, and entered   
an elevator. A guard at a security station noted her entrance and   
quickly pressed a button on his telephone.  
  
*****  
  
Xanatos paced the medical lab, holding a crying Alexander,   
annoyed that while he had invented and funded many technological   
wonders over the years, nothing, it would seem, would stop a baby's   
cry except time. Alex was understandably distraught, as was his father.   
Fox still had not awakened from her injury-induced sleep. Under the   
numerous bandages that encircled her head lay a bloodless gash. Her   
skin was very white, her lips were pale. Her chest rose and fell with   
each steady breath. Moniters around her bed displayed heart,   
respiratory and brain activity. Owen had reported the hammer had   
impacted on her temple, causing her brain to swell lightly, putting   
her into a slight coma. She had, in fact, woken up twice already,  
seeming dazed, trance-like. She hadn't recognized her husband or her   
son, stared at them blankly through slit eyes, mumbling, and had fallen   
back asleep after about a minute. Now Xanatos was pacing a hole in the floor, furious at the intrusion into his home, and the only reason he  
hadn't tried to calm down Alex was because he had a crazy thought   
that the baby's cry might awaken his wife fully.  
Owen appeared through the door. He took stock of the situation   
with one look and eased the squalling baby from Xanatos's arms.   
Muttering soft, soothing words, Owen held a pacifier at Alex's mouth.   
The baby's eyes blinked rapidly, before he sank into an   
exhausted sleep, sucking on the plastic nub.   
Xanatos slumped into a folding chair besides Fox's bed and   
rubbed the tender bridge of his nose, wincing at the bandage that   
covered it. "Thank you, Owen." he sighed.   
"How is she?" Owen asked.  
"Unchanged." Xanatos gritted his teeth. "It is extremely   
frustrating that I can do nothing but wait." He looked up. "Anything   
even remotely positive to report? Wait, don't tell me, the press and police are here, wondering if they might kindly come up and offer their services?"  
"Not as yet, sir." Owen said. "I have good news and bad news."  
"Good news first."  
"We have managed to restore power to necessary floors, we now   
have water, rudimentary lighting, and we can take the medical lab   
off the portable generator and hook that up as well. All your projects,   
legal or otherwise, offices, computer networks, and whatnot   
are still regretably off-line."  
"Well, that's something, at least we don't have to worry   
about Fox's monitors going out. And what's the bad news?"  
"Dectective Maza is on her way up."  
Xanatos pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling and blew   
out air in a resounding sigh. "Perfect."  
"May I remind you, sir, you 'did' feel she needed to be   
told of what transpired."  
"I know, I know. . .but it dosen't make today any easier."   
"And sundown is only 5 hours away."  
He grimaced. "Don't remind me. If I didn't know you better,   
I'd swear you were trying to keep me on edge."  
"It was in my job description, Mr. Xanatos. Shall I escort   
the Dectective in?"  
Xanatos nodded. "Put Alex down first."  
"Of course. I shall return, sir. I suggest you. . .what is   
the term? 'Get psyched.'"  
Xanatos glared at him. "I can handle the Dectective, Owen."  
Owen nodded without batting an eyelash. "I have no doubts,   
sir," he said blandly. With that, he turned and walked briskly out,   
leaving Xanatos to wonder whether he had just been praised or   
insulted. He gave up and heaved a worried sigh, carressing his   
wife's cheek with his hand. "Come back to me, Fox," he whispered.  
  
*****  
  
Elisa exited the elevator, only to be greeted instantly by   
the imposing figure of Owen. "Detective Maza," he said amiably.   
"Thank you for coming so dilligently."  
"Spare me the politeness, Owen," she said, reaching out a   
hand and lightly shoving him in the chest as she walked briskly around   
him. "I'm going to see the gargoyles."  
"Of course," he said, falling into step about two feet behind   
her. "I can assure you, they are entirely in one piece."  
"I'll judge that for myself." she said tonelessly. Suddenly   
Owen was halted as she whirled. "And then I'm going to go see your   
boss and ask him how in the 'hell' he could let this happen," she   
said harshly, thumping him in the chest with her index finger.  
"Mr. Xanatos tried his best, given what resources he had to   
work with, against the particular enemies that assaulted the castle."  
She stalked off toward the courtyard. "I'm sure," she   
muttered sarcastically under her breath, but Owen caught it anyway.   
~Holds a grudge rather well, dosen't she?~ a voice   
inside Owen spoke.  
"Indeed." said Owen, seemingly to the air. The corners of his   
mouth turned down a milimeter, the only indication of a frown.  
  
*****  
  
Elisa stalked through the familliar courtyard and slowed her   
stride as she looked around with a disbelieving eye. Two twisted   
car-sized hunks of slagged metal lay haphazardly before her on   
either side of the courtyard. She walked over to one and wiped   
away a blackened panel, letting out a light growl when she noted   
the faint symbol of a hammer, yellow color still slightly visible.   
Damn Quarrymen, why couldn't they just leave them alone? She   
looked back around, noting the myraid hammers, bodies and   
sparking hunks of metal which looked vaguly like Goliath,   
no doubt the Steel Clan had been brought into play. Much of the   
inner coutyard stone was blackened and charred, and several towers   
had pieces missing, making her wonder if all it would take to   
sweep this castle off the skyscraper would be a puff of wind. And before   
the gargoyles resumed living here, she would not have been sorry to   
hear that. She grimaced at the thought of poor, innocent Angela   
in the hands of men who had made it their passion, their vendetta  
to wipe out her race from the face of the Earth. Speaking of the   
gargoyles. . .  
She jogged hurridely up into the off-center tower, huffing and   
puffing, wondering why the hell Xanatos hadn't installed   
elevators. She left the stairs at mid-tower and ran out to the   
battlement surrounding it, before realizing that the gargoyles weren't   
in their usual perch. She frowned. Maybe they hadn't had time to   
swoop down. Elisa ran back and continued up, winding around and   
around the central column.   
The detective threw open the trap door and stepped out, arm raised to   
shield her eyes from the sun. She was almost afraid to lower her arm,   
afraid that Owen was wrong, that her friends. . .would be rubble. She   
peeked between her fingers and sighed in relief. They looked okay at first   
glance, but she would make certain. She looked over each gargoyle   
carefully, even getting down on her back to wiggle around their arms   
and legs to look at their front sides. No cracks. Good.   
She walked over to Goliath and wrapped her arms around his waist   
from behind, pressing her cheek to the smooth coldness of his stone back.  
I'll be here for you, big guy, she thought. She sighed and bit her lip as she stared from her prone position at the empty space to his right. Where his daughter should be.   
Elisa wriggled around in front of him, hanging on to his wings,   
not caring that behind her lay empty air. She studied his sleeping face,  
wondering what gargoyles dreamed about, if they *did* dream. She hoped  
he was having a good dream, because he would feel like he was  
having a nightmare when he awoke in a few hours. She wished his eyes  
were open, she wished he were awake, she wished she didn't feel  
so helpless.   
The wind rippled her hair back and forth, and she sat in silence,   
brooding.  
A slight cough broke her from her reverie and she climbed back around   
Goliath to behold Owen standing at the top of the stairs. Her face hardened  
as she remembered what she had to do.  
"Come to escort me to Mr. High and Mighty?"  
She was irritated to see that the wind ruffling her hair and clothes  
did not seem to affect his person.  
"That's one way to put it, Detective. If you'll follow me, please."  
He walked down the stairs. As his blonde head disappeared, she jumped  
off the rampart and hurried after him.  
"Tell me what happened," she said as she fell into step behind him.  
Elisa listened closely as the butler relayed the day's events, making  
it as brief and detailed as possible. Occaisionally she asked a curt   
question, which he answered as best he could.  
". . .and then the Quarryman fired his weapon down at the ledge behind  
where Mrs. Xanatos lay, unconcious. My true form stopped her from falling,  
but Mr. Xanatos was understandably concerned and dropped out from the   
helicopter. As he tried to awaken her, the helicopter made its escape,   
heading south."  
"Why didn't you try to stop the helicopter?"  
He paused. "Excuse me, Detective?"  
"You say you were able to turn into Puck because Alex would be harmed  
mentally and emotionally if either Xanatos was hurt or killed, right?"  
"That is correct."  
They left the staircase, headed into the courtyard.   
"So why couldn't you stop the helicopter?" asked Elisa harshly. "A   
gargoyle's death not hold as much beef with the kid?"   
Owen stopped and narrowed his eyes. "I would have, if I could, Ms.   
Maza. I have no wish to see the gargoyles hurt, despite what I may have   
done in the past."  
"Then why?" she pressed.  
He resumed walking. "The truth is, Detective, young Alexander *is*   
still only an infant. The gargoyles do not spend very much time with him,  
they are still like strangers to him. He would not remember them if they   
left the castle, never to return, at this age. He has not formed a   
rapport, a 'bond' if you will, with any of them. Except perhaps, for   
Lexington, as he did inhabit his mind for a while. I am afraid only   
his parents and myself enjoy the priviledge of being in young   
Alexander's positive eye."  
Elisa was flabbergasted, and more than a little appalled. "You're   
telling me that you couldn't stop a measly helicopter because Angela hadn't   
spent enough time with Alex? You're quoting child development books   
at me while Goliath's daughter is being held by the most sadistic creeps   
since the Nazi's?!"  
Owen stopped walking and stared straight ahead. "There was nothing   
I could do, Detective."  
"Oh come on, Owen!" she yelled. "You're Puck! You're a trickster, a   
blasted fey, you all live to meddle and bend the rules! Why couldn't you  
have made up some excuse and snapped your fingers and poof, Angela's back?"  
Owen turned his head and looked at her with almost sad eyes,   
startling her. "You are right, Detective. I could have. Easily. Oberon   
would have looked away at such a minor infraction."  
"Then why not?!" she said, exasperated.  
"It was Fate," he said simply.  
Elisa blinked and gritted her teeth, forcing her anger back.   
"You're not Puck right now, so cut the cryptic lingo."  
"Cryptic lingo is part of being a fey, detective. I suddenly *knew*,   
please, don't ask how, that I must not save her. What you are asking me   
is akin to a plane crash survivor asking someone why didn't his family survive. I don't expect you to understand."  
"You're damn right, I don't understand," she said coldly. "You fey  
are all alike, manipulating others at a whim for your own ends and not   
giving a damn about who gets hurt. No wonder you like working for   
Xanatos. Must have thought you found a long-lost mortal bud when you   
came across him, huh?"  
Owen pursed his lips. "Detective, please, I'm-"  
"You're what? Sorry? Oh, that makes it all better, thank you *so*   
much. All I care about at this moment is finding and getting back Angela.  
You probably think that this 'Fate' of yours will make things all   
better, but it'll be the mortals around here that will get her back. And  
I hope you're happy about living with the guilt you so richly deserve."  
Owen said nothing for a full minute, to Elisa, it seemed like hours.   
Then he abruptly turned and walked into the castle. "We are wasting time   
then. Follow me."  
Elisa followed Owen into the castle, almost running into Owen when   
he suddenly turned back to her. "Yeah?" she said. "What now?"  
"For what it's worth to you, Detective. . .Elisa. . .I am sorry."  
Elisa tried to meet his gaze and couldn't. She studied the ancient  
carpet on the floor and traced the whorls and loops with her foot. "Yeah,"  
she said, speaking to her chest. "Me too. . ."  
They continued walking.  
  
*****  
  
Detective Matt Bluestone drove through the countryside, tuning his   
radio through various staticky stations, or driving the needle out to where  
nothing played at all. He was hoping that he would somehow, no matter how  
infinite the chance, hit on an alien radio frequency. He listened for  
patterns, low background noises, chuckling to himself at the thought of   
picking up alien music. He remembered the first second he had heard the   
Macarena while doing this and the wild exultation he had felt. It was sadly  
reduced later to disappointment and chagrin that his own species could come  
up with something so. . .so irritating.  
He pulled up to an iron gate, complete with stone-carved gargoyles  
watching down from two pedestals on opposite sides of his car. He rolled  
down the window and looked at the camera as it panned towards him.  
After a few seconds, there was a hissing from an interom next to him.  
"Yes," a voice with a Scottish accent said. There was no questioning tone   
in the word, just a direct statement.  
For one insane moment he considered saying, "Yeah, two Big Macs,   
large fries and a medium Coke." Then he shook it away. "I'm here to see  
Lennox Macduff."  
The voice did not wait a second. "You can't see him right now.   
Please depart."  
"My name is Detective Matt Bluestone. Ring any bells?"  
The voice was silent. Matt thought the speaker might have broken   
from disuse.  
"I know who you are, Detective. Tis' a pity we haven't been formally  
introduced."  
"Well then, let's cut the charade, 'MacBeth'," said Matt.  
"Aye." said the voice. "What d'you want?"  
"I'm doing an investigation on a kidnapping. Or should I say,   
gargoyle-napping."  
Another long silence.  
"Hello?" said Matt irritably.  
"Yes, I'm here, laddie, just collecting my thoughts." The voice   
sighed. "I don't suppose if I kept you waiting long enough you'd leave my  
castle?"  
Matt shook his head. "No chance in hell."  
Another sigh. "I thought not. Well then, you can't wait out there   
forever, I suppose, although *I* probably could." The gates opened   
silently.   
"Come in, Detective."  
  
*****   
  
Matt was ushered in through the double front doors by an elderly   
woman who was obviously the houskeeper. "May I take yer coat, Mr. Bluestone?" She had a heavy Scottish accent.   
"No thanks, Miss. . ?"  
"Och, just call me Molly, I dinnae mean ta be a bother t'ye. Would   
ye care fer anything? Tea? Coffee? A wee nip o' Scotch whiskey?"  
Matt chuckled. "No, thank you again, er. . .Molly. I'm a beer man,   
myself."  
"Ah, a man of the ale! I see, I see. . .Mr Macduff dosena care fer   
all these new modern brews, he says they taste like swill, that e' does!"  
"Yeah. . .speaking of Mr. Macduff, where is he? I need to speak to   
him."  
"He be in the libary, pouring over his books again, I swear, the man  
reads like he's got all the time in the world! Through those doors, down  
the hall, to your right! And, I'll be seeing ye soon, Mr. Mulder." She   
chuckled.  
Matt was already walking when his brain caught up with what she had  
said. "Excuse me?" he said, stopping. "What did you call me?"  
She winked. "Why, Mr. Mulder, of course! Ye know, from the X-Files!"  
Matt vaguely remembered hearing about it. "Sorry, I don't watch much  
t.v, I'm normally on the night shift."  
She appeared flustered. "Och, I'm so sorry, Mr. Bluestone, it's just  
ye look so much like one of the main characters, I just assumed ye'd watched  
the show!"  
He chuckled. "Well, what is it about?"  
Her eyes lit up. A new fanatic to recruit! "It be about these two   
F.B.I. agents who investigate certain cases called the "X-Files." Ye know,  
the stuff the government dosena want us to be seeing!"  
"Stuff like alien invasions, gargoyles, secret societies,  
Loch Ness and the like?"  
She beamed. "The very same! Ye'd love it!"  
He yawned and walked away. "Sorry Molly, there's enough of that in my   
real life already, I really don't need to be watching it on the tube."  
Molly opened her mouth and closed it again.   
Matt left the flustered housekeeper and walked besides a long   
staircase. The medieval aspects about the place were marvelous. Tapestries  
covered the walls, marble heads sat on pedestals, portraits and chandeliers  
adorned the remaining space, many a weapon sat above doorways.   
He noticed a stained-glass window situated above the bend in the   
stairs. Every color of the rainbow and then some was used for  
this intricate piece of art. To the lower right was a silouhette of a man   
staring up at a gargoyle, whose wings were outstretched, framed by the moon.   
The two figures seemed to balance the picture, and Matt suddenly got the   
feeling he was watching something very, very old. He felt very small.  
"It's beautiful, is it not, Detective?"  
Matt whirled. "How long have you been standing there!?"  
The man in a silver-grey suit known as MacBeth chuckled darkly.   
"About five minutes."  
"I haven't been standing here that long."  
"Aye, ye have, lad. Picture's rather absorbing, isn't it?"  
Matt snorted. "I would say haunting."  
"True enough." He sipped from a glass full of brown liquid that   
looked like brandy. "You know my tale, then?"  
"Just the basics. . .a history with our resident psycho gargoyle,   
you're somehow immortal along with Demona and you have some sort of link   
with her. . ."  
"Why are ye here?"  
"You know she was kidnapped by the Quarrymen?"  
MacBeth nodded. "I saw the news earlier. Good riddance to that   
organization of crazed zealots. It saddens me to think that humanity  
has yet to learn the concept of tolerance in all the centuries I've lived."  
"Yeah, well, all philosophizing aside, I'm wondering if you could   
tell me anything about where she might be. There are no leads as to her   
whereabouts. I was thinking your link might lead us to her."   
MacBeth's eyes grew cold. "You thought wrong, laddie."  
Bluestone narrowed his own eyes. "Why? Because it doesn't work that  
way? Or you won't?"  
"My reasons are my own, Detective."   
"That won't stop the Quarrymen from getting every secret out of her  
they can. They might even find out a way to kill her. Where would   
that leave you?"  
Macbeth snorted. "I would be dead, of course. The link between us   
enables us to feel each other's pain."  
"Alas. . ." he sighed. "I would arise again, as if nothing had ever  
happened, and continue my lonely, endless existence."  
"Rough deal." stated Matt.  
MacBeth glared at him. "You don't know the half of it."  
"Enlighten me, then."  
"To tell you the entire tale would take months. But I'll try  
anyway. Please sit."  
Matt did so, easing into a high-backed, black leather chair.  
"Do you know of the Third Race?" MacBeth asked.  
"Never actually seen one, though I know Owen Burnett is apparently  
a fairy named Puck. Never seen him, though. Seems rather tricky, but   
harmless over all."  
MacBeth snorted again. "Tricky, yes, Mr. Bluestone, harmless, never.  
There are other fey, sir, manipulative and devious, that use mortals like  
you and me to their own ends. Why, I do not know. They say it is our   
destiny. I say it is a curse. Pray you don't ever have a fey take interest  
in you, Detective. Your life will probably never be the same. Gargoyles   
are strange enough and look where it got you, knowing about them."  
Matt looked impatient. "Allright, gotcha, avoid em' like the plague,  
what does it have to do with you and Demona?"  
"An identical trio of fey known as the Weird Sisters took an interest  
in Demona and myself, just over a thousand years ago. Why, I have no idea.   
I had a good life. . ." His voice wavered, his eyes swam with memories   
brought to life just beneath the glassy surfaces. "I had the Stewardship of  
Clan Moray, my lady wife Gruoch by my side. . .she was so gentle," he   
shuddered and put his glass down. "So gentle and possessed of such spirit t'was a wonder she did not put down her loom and take up a sword to join me in battle!" He chuckled.   
"Sounds like a good woman." Matt said.  
"Aye, that she was. And she bore me the greatest gift of all, a son   
of my own, Luoch. We lived hard, but happily. And then the Hunter came   
again."  
Matt's brow furrowed. "Wait a minute, you're telling me the Canmore   
family history goes back that far?! All my research hit dead ends before  
the late 1800's."  
"Yes, it went back that far, Detective. A familly born and bred for   
vengeance. All our fault. . ." he sighed. "To make a long story short,   
the the Hunter and his armies were near to destroying my clan.   
In a fit of desperation, I rode to find Demona, the gargoyle   
that had saved my life and that of my love. I wished to beg for her  
clans' aid.  
"When I found her, she was old and tired, frustrated at her waning ability to protect her clan from humans, the Hunter in particular. We   
each had a common foe.   
"For reasons of their own, the Weird Sisters appeared and presented  
a bargain. I would gain Demona as an ally, while she would get my youth.  
"We accepted and the Sisters began their spell. I remember   
flashes of light, thunderous noises, ominous voices chanting and a   
feeling that my very life was being sucked from me. I fought against   
it, even though I had bargained it away. I could feel my esscence   
being intertwined with a being of rage and great. . .great pain.  
"When it was over, I had aged greatly, though I still was firmly  
muscled, and not a toothless old bag of wrinkled skin. Demona was young   
again and beautiful. We both went after the Hunter with reknewed sprit,   
and thought we destroyed him. His young son was naturally outraged, but I   
spared his life. When I think of all the pain and suffering that I have   
caused because of my mercy. . ." He gritted his teeth. "The  
road to hell is paved with good intentions." he quoted bitterly.   
"Demona became my primary adviser, and for a while, all was good,   
I had my lady wife, my son and my kingdom. The gargoyle judged rather   
harshly in some occaisions, we were two different species after all,   
but I was there to ease her temper. Some of her clan even made friends   
with a few of my most open-minded soldiers, and though she frowned   
deeply at that, she never stopped it. I thought her days of human hating were behind her.  
"A few years passed, and our kingdom fell under the attack of a   
new Hunter, the son of the last. He had allied himself with rogue   
clans as well as English armies. Both mine and Demona's clan fought side   
by side in many a battle, and for a time, it appeared we would prevail."  
"So what happened to change things?" Matt said. He was entranced.  
A fist clenched. "She betrayed me! Gave   
up my clan to Canmore! His armies slaughtered my people." MacBeth said   
harshly.  
"Why?"  
"That is the most frustrating thing of all, Detective! I do not   
know!" he hissed.  
"I confronted her with Canmore and my Gruoch looking on.   
She had the gall to accuse *me* of treachery! And then Canmore acted,   
stabbing me through the heart from behind like an honorless assassain.   
I fell, and the last thing I saw before my eyes saw gray was Demona falling  
to the ground as well, snarling in pain. I knew in my heart, if not my head  
what our link truly meant."  
"So when one of you dies, the other dies too?" said Matt.  
"Aye, but not for long. After a few minutes, I   
awakened to be surrounded by three hags, the Sisters in another form. They  
said that Demona and I would be. . ." He shuddered. "I still   
remember the words as if it was yesterday. . .'And thus you both shall live,  
eternally linked. . .sharing each other's pain. . .and anguish. . .with no   
release until one destroys the other. Only then, shall both finally  
perish. . .together.'"  
Matt whistled in awe.   
"I haven't seen them since. My wife backed away  
from me in horror when the Sisters disappeared, she thought me a ghost.  
I said nay, and took her in my arms. At that moment, I wanted to put all  
this strange magic and terrible events behind us and go into battle with my  
son.   
"But Gruoch was wise, tragically wise in this case, for she knew that   
these latest sorcerous happenings would only drive a wedge further between  
my loyal Scotsman and myself. And we could not both abandon our son. And   
so, I left my love, my child, Scotland, left any semblance of a normal life,   
etching out an existence across the world, searching for the gargoyle that   
caused me such pain."  
MacBeth finished his tale and went over to sit in a high-backed   
chair. "I'm sorry, I must be wasting your time, good sir."  
"Not at all." said Matt, shaking his head. "If nothing else,   
I know a bit more about you now. Tell that to all the people you meet?"   
MacBeth laughed mockingly. "Of course not."  
"Well, I'm happy I'm getting to know an immortal Scottish king, one   
of the less strange things to occur in my life, but I have to insist,   
can you help me?"  
MacBeth looked at the ceiling. "And why should I be helping my   
age-old foe?"  
"I could say because it's the right thing to do, but this isn't some  
cartoon. Demona might break and tell them things about her you might not want them knowing. You want 50 hooded and hammered idiots breaking into   
your home every night because they know they can get to Demona through you?"  
MacBeth snorted. "I can handle Quarrymen, laddie."  
"I'm sure you can. You're Mister Longevity, what can they do that you  
can't heal or get away from?"  
MacBeth glared at him. "I have little tolerance for your attitude, sirrah. Speak your mind."  
"What if I told you Angela has also been gargoyle-napped by the  
Quarrymen?"  
At that MacBeth sighed softly and closed his eyes. "Ah, so that's what  
it was. . ." he murmured.  
"What? What are you talking about?" Matt stood and walked over.  
"There's other kinds of pain than physical, laddie. I have felt  
them all while linked to Demona. The pain link is only active from a few  
hundred yards away. But the mental and emotional pain, I'm afraid, is never  
ending. . .and knows no distance limit."  
Matt's eyes widened. "You mean you can feel her mind? Like empathy?"  
MacBeth nodded. "Aye. Tis' not prevalent, otherwise I'd have gone  
mad centuries ago. You wouldn't believe the things that gargoyle had gone  
through. Poor beastie. . ."  
"No doubt." said Bluestone. "But what did you mean, 'that's what it   
was.'"  
"The fear of losing a child, decective, is one that is impossible to   
ignore. I suspect Angela is in mortal danger."  
"And. . ." MacBeth gave a bitter sigh. "She is feeling it right   
now." He gritted his teeth. "And it is getting stronger." He suddenly  
stared at Matt with fear in his eyes. "I can't block it out anymore. I  
know what she's feeling, do you understand?" He suddenly sprang out of   
the chair, past Matt, and began pacing the room. "It is getting  
unbearable, Detective!" he said loudly, wringing his hands. "She   
just wants to lash out in cold rage and destruction and at the same   
time she wants to embrace her daughter and love her, but she dosen't know  
how to be a mother, practically all she's ever known is violence and   
hatred, she thinks she tries to do good, she means well, but it always   
comes out wrong, and deep down she knows she has only herself to blame!" Matt backed deeper into his chair as MacBeth began yelling.  
"I can feel her anger!" MacBeth pointed to his head. "Up here!   
All the hate and rage and betrayal and helplessness and underneath it all,   
buried deep within, the constant, overwhelming guilt that it is   
ALL HER FAULT!"  
Matt watched, insanely fascinated as MacBeth picked up a marble bust  
and with a scream, hurtled it up the stairs, shattering the stained-glass  
window of himself and Demona.   
Glass clinked onto the steps, mingling with the sounds of   
MacBeth's ragged breathing.  
Then all was quiet.  
Matt got up and slowly approached the man. He laid a hand   
on his shoulder. "You allright now?"  
MacBeth slumped to the floor. "Aye. . .I'll be allright. I must   
apologize for my outburst. I have been carrying that inside me for a long,  
long time."  
"Hey, it happens." Matt sighed and stepped back. "Guess I'll be  
going. Was nice meeting you. Sorry I ended up opening old wounds." He   
turned to leave.  
"Wait, Detective."  
Matt looked back to see the Scottish king straighen and regain some  
dignity. "I will help you."  
"Matt blinked. "You will? How come, if you don't mind my asking."  
"You're reasoning is sound about the Quarrymen, good   
sir. Despite my bravado, I do not want them wrecking my home. . .or me for  
that matter. Second of all, if I do not stop the reason behind these   
emotions, I shall surely go mad.  
"And. . .I don't want Demona to loose a child as I have."  
"Yeah, I think those are pretty good reasons." said Matt lightly.  
MacBeth chuckled. "You're a fine lad, Detective."  
"Never doubted it. Now, let's get in my car and head for the Eyrie  
Building, Elisa is there already."  
"Nay lad, we're not takin yer car, jalopy that it is."  
Matt frowned. "So it's older than you are, big deal."  
"We be needing faster transportation, laddie!"  
"Allright, what would this faster transportation be?"  
MacBeth grinned. "Ever fly in a hovercraft, Detective?"  
"No, but I've ridden in a flying saucer." Matt deadpanned.   
"Yer pullin' me leg!"  
"Well then, as your play goes, 'Lay on, Macduff'."  
"Do you have any idea how often that infernal, *inaccurate* play  
has irritated me to no end?" Macbeth glared at him and stalked towards  
the rear of the mansion. "Meet me in the hanger in five minutes!"  
Matt began walking. "And I thought the famed Scottish temper was just   
a myth." he muttered.  
  
*****  
  
Xanatos was dozing off at the side of Fox's bed when Elisa opened the  
door quietly and slipped in.   
"Xanatos," she stated his name calmly.  
He sat upright and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He took in Elisa's   
pose: hands on hips, a slight look of anger on her face, the narrowed eyes,  
and automatically assumed 'The Face'. It was the face that always won   
CEO's over before he bought them out; pursueaded exec's to pull   
all-nighters; it said to his grunt employees that 'they' ran operations   
single-handedly.   
"Detective," he said nonchahalantly. "Glad you could make it."  
She said nothing and walked over to stand on the opposite side of   
Fox's bed. "How is she?"  
"Resting comfortably, I hope. She hasen't woken up, no change   
in her condidtion." Xanatos paused. "How are you feeling?"  
Elisa looked from Fox to Xanatos and said nothing, expression   
unchanged. He returned the silence.  
"You know Xanatos, you've pulled lots of things in your lifetime."  
He quirked a smile. "Can you blame me for wanting to keep my life  
interesting?"  
"You think turning my brother into a mutate, trying to use me and   
the gargoyles several times over in your little schemes and creating  
the psycho Pack is interesting? Not to mention all the lives you've   
destroyed, however indirectly."  
Xanatos frowned and shrugged, not sure where this was leading.   
"It passed the time. I've changed, detective. "  
"And now because of your negligence, Goliath could lose his daughter."  
Xanatos sat up. "Hold it right there. I had little control over the  
situation. I did my best."   
"I'm sure. And I'm sure you're going to do your best when you explain  
to Goliath that his daughter was nabbed out of the most heavily defended   
installation this side of NORAD."  
He grimaced. "Not something I'm looking forward too."  
"Me neither. And I'm holding YOU responsible."  
Xanatos's eyes narrowed. "And why is that, Detective?"   
"I'm surprised we haven't been attacked before now. The Quarrymen have  
always known the gargoyles live atop the castle, you think just because you  
can retreat safe into this little castle high above the rest of us, the   
crap you pull down below won't rise up to haunt you?"  
"I've always taken responsibility for my actions, Detective. If   
something goes wrong, I resolve the dillema, I don't whine and gripe."  
"Whatever," she said, waving him away and heading to the door. "We  
shouldn't be doing this now, finding Angela is our top priority."   
"Obviously." He stood. "As soon as Goliath wakes up..." he sighed.   
"We'll plan our stragety."  
She nodded at him. "Fine," she said. Then she stared at him harshly.  
"But just between you and me, Xanatos, I don't like you. I doubt I ever  
will. You're a smug, overbearing, self-absorbed megalomaniac who uses  
others for his own ends. With all the danger you constantly get yourself  
into, and the kind of life you lead, I can't even believe you brought a  
child into the world." She shook her head.  
"You haven't the slightest *clue* as how to be a father. If   
I wanted to, I could have police brought up here on charges of child   
neglect. *If* I could prove half the things I know about you, any halfway  
decent jury would make sure you'd never see Alex again."  
Xanatos said nothing, he didn't even blink. "You'd do that to me,   
Detective? Do that to Fox? To Alex?"   
She didn't budge. "In a second."  
He pursed his lips. "I admit   
Fox and I aren't exactly Ozzie and Harriet, but we're trying our best,   
and I'll thank you to remember that. I guess we won't ever see   
eye to eye on things, Detective. But we have to work together for   
others' sakes."  
She sighed. "I know, but I don't have to like it."  
"Nobody's asking you to."  
She glanced at her watch. "Sun's down in 35 minutes. We'd better head   
out there."   
"Of course. After you, Detective. Be with you in a minute."  
She walked out, heading for the tower.  
Xanatos looked at the closing door, slightly irritated that 'The Face'  
didn't seem to work anymore. He sighed and looked down at Fox. Her chest   
rose and fell, the EKG beeping softly. He reached down and brushed a lock  
of her hair back from her face. "Hang in there, Mom." he said,   
slightly chuckling. It was a pet nickname for her before she was pregnant   
with Alex; before that, she was vemenently opposed to the idea of   
motherhood, he teased her with it. Would an owner of a multi-national   
conglomerate spanning several continents who regularly ran various schemes,   
most of which were not legal or ethically sound be a good father? Would a   
hardened mercenary who rebelled against her father and had been in an out   
of prison time and time again for countless major crimes be a good mother?   
Xanatos didn't know.   
He walked over and grabbed the radio that he had to use since  
communications though out the building were still down. "Owen?"  
Instantly the dry, slightly staticky voice was heard. "Yes, sir?"  
"Bring up Alex's crib, would you? I think it would be helpful for him  
if his mother was in the same room. Might help her wake up as well."  
"Excellent idea, sir. At once."   
Xantatos nodded and clipped the device onto his belt. He walked out   
the door and headed towards the courtyard. His thoughts turned to Angela.  
How in the hell was he going to get her back. . . He shook his head, hoping  
these 35 minutes wouldn't be his last when Goliath found out his daughter  
was gone...  
~'make sure you'd never see Alex again.'~  
He suddenly wheeled around and headed for the nursery. "Owen!" he   
said, grasping the walkie-talkie.  
"Sir?"  
"Don't worry about Alex, I'll move him from the nursery and see to  
him myself. You get to work on reparing my exo-frame."  
"Of course, sir."  
He'd be damned if he was going to be in the fight of his life   
without tucking Alex in one last time.  
  
*****  
  
Castaway sat at a row of video moniters, attentive to the last   
detail. With hardened eyes he studied the face of his immortal enemy,  
the Demon. A slight smile arose under his mustache.  
It was the most glorious thing he had ever seen, she looked so   
tired and defeated. Worry lines creased her cheeks  
and forehead as she slumped in her chair, looking at her stone daughter's   
face with unblinking eyes. Every time she moaned in worry, Castaway's   
passion was rekindled, his vendetta reknewed. He smirked. When the spawn   
awoke from it's sleep, the Demon would be that much easier to   
manipulate for his own ends.   
And then they would all die, every last one of the monsters. The   
ones who had killed his family for generations, crippled his brother   
and terrorized countless innocent lives. . .they would all be smashed to  
dust underneath his hammer.  
"Admiring your handiwork, sir?" a female voice said from behind him.  
Castaway whirled in his chair, hand already on his hammer. "What  
in blazes-"  
"We're sorry, sir!" said a second feminine voice spoke, holding up  
it's hands.  
"We just wanted to see if you needed anything. . ." spoke a third.  
His hammer hand lowered. Just some new recruits who hadn't learned  
the ropes yet. "You all know, this is my *private* quarters." said Castaway   
softly. He glared at the three hooded soldiers.   
"Yes, of course, sir!" one nodded rapidly.  
"We wouldn't dream of disturbing you." said the next one.  
"Especially now that you've captured that gargoyle!" said the third.   
"This is a triumph for our cause!"  
"Yes, it is." said Castaway. "Please leave," he said, turning back   
to his moniters. "I don't need anything right now."  
"Except a cold dosage of truth."   
He closed his eyes. "What. . .did you say?" he said softly. One   
of the voices behind him had said it, he wasn't sure which.  
"Just commenting on how you need the gargoyle to fess up, that's  
all," said another piping voice.  
"That's what I thought you meant." nodded Castaway, not turning   
around.  
"Sir, why have you captured this gargoyle? We've never shown mercy  
before." asked one.  
"This is a very dangerous gargoyle, recruit. She must be handled   
with special care."  
"Does she mean something to you personally?"   
His eyes narrowed and he turned back around. The expressionless   
hoods told him nothing of the women behind the masks. "You ask to many  
questions."   
They nodded in unison. "Sorry sir, we're just curious. If we may  
say so, it just seems to us that you're putting this gargoyle through a  
lot. What if the others find out where you are? Or these two break free?  
We could be in trouble. . .maybe you should let them go."   
"What!" he yelled. "Are you insane, recruit?"  
"No sir, it's just. . ."  
"If you're so squeamish, recruit, then you may turn in your hammer  
this instant. I, and my ancestors, have been fighting these monsters for   
generations. You can at least give it a try for a few days. And please,  
no more questions. Leave now." He snorted at them and turn back   
to his moniters. Only 20 minutes to sundown. . .  
"Do. . .you have family, sir?" one of the recruits said. Castaway  
stiffened.  
~Not anymore. . .not anymore. . .~  
"Sir?"  
"No," he said hotly, resisting the urge to throttle these fools.  
"No, I don't have any family. They were all taken away from me by   
the gargoyles." He hissed the last word.  
"And what about Jason?" said one softly.   
With a harsh cry, he whirled and slammed his hammer down onto the  
forehead of the center figure, then took the handle in both hands and   
shoved it out right, then left, connecting with the right and left   
figure's heads. They all crumpled to the ground and he beat them over  
and over again, shouting curses and shrieking in rage.   
When he was done, his uniform was soaked with sweat and he felt  
like he had run a marathon. Breathing heavily, he leaned  
on his hammer like a cane, kneeling to tear off the hoods of the bodies.  
He would find out who these fools were.   
He lifted the hood of the first recruit.   
And stared at empty air.  
His head snapped back slightly as his eyes widened. Castaway let out  
a slight gasp and immediately checked the others.  
The uniforms were empty. Castaway had assaulted a pile of clothes.  
"What the *hell* is going on around here?!" he said to nobody.  
  
*****  
  
Dominique felt absolutely miserable.  
She could cope with the fact she was in the hands of her most hated  
enemy.   
She could come to grips with her being human at the most   
inappropriate of times.  
She was even beginning to put out of her head the tortures she had   
received not two hours ago.  
But she could not stand that her daughter was here because of her.  
~Angela, my daughter, I am so sorry.~  
The wretched Hunter had no doubt captured her to get to   
herself. And, she grudgingly admited, it would work. She cursed at  
her weakness for believing the falsehood that she would be safe with   
the clan. She had wanted Angela to come live with her, to be safe, if nothing else. But she knew Goliath and the rest would have rather slit  
their own throats than have Angela living with her mother, so they had twisted the truth about her various plans to save the gargoyle race. Couldn't they see it was hopeless? It was trouble enough that the   
Quarrymen knew where they lived, if that fact became public knowledge,   
there would be no peace for her kind, let alone saftey. . .  
But she had allowed Angela to live with them, because she did admit,   
6 gargoyles could keep her safe better than she, with an entire business  
to run. Dominique understood the cold fact that Angela would come to see  
it her way in time, as the humans became more and more vicious to her   
kind. She grieved for the loss of innocence that must accompany such  
a view, but there was no other way.   
She blinked as she realized the room had gotten darker. She wondered  
how many minutes to sunset. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she waited for  
the change.  
It hit her with the force of a thousand shards of glass. She   
shrieked once in reflex and doubled over as much as the bonds would allow.  
She tried not to listen to the grating sounds that rang through her bones,  
she tried not to watch her fingers merge as she tried to clawed at her   
emerging brow ridges, she tried not to feel the skin ripping apart as   
her wings exploded out of her back.  
As the pain lessened, she abruptly realized her bonds had shattered  
in her struggles. With a happy snarl, she leapt out of the chair and   
spread her wings wide, enthralled with her return to her gargoyle self.  
She remembered her daughter, and turned to watch her stone form   
crack and the shards tumbled off her. She smiled happily. Demona had  
never seen her daughter emerge from her stone form, it was like seeing  
her hatching all over again, when times were happier.  
Angela let out a light snarl and her reddened eyes dimmed, only  
to lighten again as she hurriedly realized her predicament. "Wha-?   
Mother?" she stammered, twisting in her bonds. "What's going on?   
Where am I? What have you done to me!"  
She winced at the last question. "I'll answer later,   
daughter. For now, can you break your chains?"  
Angela tugged and snarled mightily, but to no effect. "No,   
I can't." she gritted her teeth.  
Demona walked over to her. "No shame in that, young one. Here, let  
me help." Clasping the chains below Angela's hands, they both yanked and  
between the two of them, the manacles holding Angela's arms to the ground  
came loose.   
"That's done it!" said Angela. She snapped her leg chains easily,   
now that she had more leverage.   
Demona suddenly embraced Angela, to her surprise. She hurriedly   
shoved Demona away, staring at her.  
Demona looked at her, hurt evident in her eyes.   
"I'm sorry, Mother, but I've been through too much at your  
hands to take this at face value. Now where are we?"  
Demona straightened. "Very well. I suppose you have the right to  
be suspicious. We have both been captured by Castaway."  
Angela gasped. "Oh no. . ."  
Demona nodded grimly. "Indeed. He wishes to know my secrets, and  
captured you to get to me."  
Angela's eyes narrowed. "I see. And how do I know that this isn't  
a trick? You could have captured me during the day to get at father."  
She glared at Demona. "I hope you haven't sunk to that level, Mother."  
Demona shook her head violently. "I would never put you in  
deliberate danger, Angela. Not after what happened with Thailog. . ."   
She shuddered. "And the proof is in this room. See that chair?"  
Angela nodded.  
"I was bound to that, and only seconds ago, freed due to my   
transformation. And if you try the door, you'll find it locked. And these  
walls are solid enough to deter gargoyle claws for a time, I believe.   
Why would I lock myself in a room and tie myself up?"  
The young gargoyle wavered and eyed the chair suspiciously.   
She walked over and tried the door. Finding it locked, she pulled back   
and punched at it with a snarl. She only succeeded in wringing her hand   
for a few seconds. Trying to dig her claws into the wall, she pushed   
in a few milimeters, then stopped as they hit some sort of metallic   
substance.   
She turned back to Demona. "All right, Mother. I believe you.  
More so from the fact you released me, than this. You didn't have to do  
that. But I do believe you. This time." She emphasized her last words.   
Demona bit her lower lip. "You do not know. . .Angela. . .how   
sorry I am to be the cause of your coming to be here. I never wanted  
to hurt you in any way." Her formal mask broke. "And I. . .I wish I   
could be there for you. I wish things were different."   
Demona turned away, head hung, and cloaked her wings around herself.  
She heard movement as Angela came near her and was startled beyond   
belief by the feel of Angela's arms and wings around her from behind.   
"So do I, Mother. . ." a soft voice said into her ear. Demona felt a   
quick kiss touch her cheek and smiled, hurridly wiping at tears that   
threatened to spill over. She   
whispered a silent thank you and clasped her hand in hers, squeezing, then  
pulling away.  
"Ahem. . ." she collected herself. "For the moment, Angela,   
what do you say we try to find our way out of here before Castaway or   
another I don't wish you ever to make an acquaintance of returns."  
"Sounds like a-" Angela broke off as the keys clinked in the door and  
she grimaced. "Nevermind."   
"Be strong, daughter." said Demona, squeezing her hand tightly, then  
releasing it and stared at the door.  
It swung open smoothly, and eight hooded Quarrymen armed with laser   
pistols hurried in, surrounding the pair on three sides. The two gargoyles  
growled low, eyes burning red with fury.   
Castaway walked in, eyes seemingly calm and hard. Demona studied   
the human and instantly thought something was wrong. The former swagger,   
the casual, smug attitude, all were gone, replaced by hunched shoulders   
and eyes that darted around as if he expected something to happen.  
"All done with your little family reunion, Demon?" said Castaway.  
"Good. Then you will not mind answering my questions. You will tell me the  
secrets of your immortality."  
"You'll have an eternally long wait." said Demona. "Literally."   
"You will tell me every and all locations of   
the hoardes of money you've collected over the centuries. You didn't   
just fund Nightstone Unlimited from the start out of your pocket change."  
"Funding running low for paramilitary non-profit organizations?   
My, my, how terrible for you." She laughed.  
"You will tell me of any and all gargoyle clans you have encountered  
throughout the centuries."  
"You seriously think I will tell you anything, you simpering,   
stupid little human?"  
He nodded and stared at Angela, who felt herself take a step back   
in spite of herself. "If you wish to keep her from the hell your race  
spawned from, you will."  
Angela looked at her mother, heart pounding. A silent signal went   
between them. ~Don't worry about me, Mother. I am of your blood. I can  
take care of myself.~  
Demona gritted her teeth and looked back at Castaway. "She would  
rather die than tell you anything." She looked proudly at her daughter.  
"As would I." She let her eyes glow crimson and took a step towards   
Castaway, not caring if the guards shot her. "But do not test me,  
Hunter." She unfurled her wings. "Or it is you who will be writhing   
in your own entrails, as your pathetic soldiers did when I escaped."   
She snarled at him.  
Angela stared at her mother in horror, and she swallowed as she  
began to realize the lengths she had to go before she truly   
understood Demona.   
Even Castaway took a step back at the venom in her voice. He quickly  
regained himself.  
"Very well, Demon, if I cannot pluck your secrets from threatening   
your vile daughter with death, then perhaps something even more unpleasant  
will unseat your much self-vaunted bravado."  
He glanced past them, to the Quarrymen guards, and both gargoyles   
started. They had forgotten all about them. "Did you hear that, boys?  
She said your fellow Quarrymen were pathetic. This gargoyle slaughtered   
them in cold blood. Do you remember?"  
The Quarrymen all clenched their fists and nodded.  
"Do you think she needs to be taught a lesson?"  
There was no nod, Castaway knew well enough what the answer was.  
He gestured with two fingers for them to come closer, and Angela and  
Demona's eyes darted around as the soldiers surrounded them from behind.  
"I thought, though, that for tonight, you would like to have the   
girl."  
A low moan from Angela was cut short by a glance from Castaway.  
"That, I believe, would shred the Demon's body and soul far more  
effectively than something I could ever devise. Don't you agree, Demon?"  
Demona felt faint, and her eyes swam. ~Get control of yourself!~  
"You. . .you wouldn't dare, human. . .you are a coward, using   
innocent hatchlings as blackmail!"  
"Oh, there is much I would dare, my immortal prey." Castaway   
said slyly.   
Angela went rigid as she felt a hand run up and across her breast,  
another pulled back her head back by her hair as the laces near her thighs  
were slowly unloosed. She choked back a scream.  
"Of course, all this can end in an instant," he said. "Angela. . ."  
he said, turning to her. "All your mother has to do is tell me her  
secrets and you won't get hurt. . ." He ran a finger down her cheek, and  
she restrained herself from snapping at him. "Would be a shame for bruises  
to color this lovely shade of lavender. And that's the least of what will  
happen to you," he said, looking at Demona smugly.  
Demona was literally shaking, and her lower lip bled freely from   
between her teeth.  
Castaway turned back to Angela and cupped her chin. All she could   
see were his feverish eyes. "Unless your mother decides otherwise, I will  
give you to my men. If they want to twist your wings and make bets on who  
can make you scream the loudest, then they will. There are so many things  
that could be done, my dear. Their tastes have no limit, and as long   
as they don't kill you, why, then I have no reason to deny them. . .   
anything. . ."  
Angela would have fallen when her legs buckled had not an arm   
circled her waist to pull her back tight against a Quarryman. She could  
smell his sweat.  
"Well, Demon? What shall it be?"  
Demona's eyes shot from Angela to the men and back wildly. With a   
cry of rage, she desperatly lunged at Castaway and was promptly shot   
several times. She slipped to the floor, groaning in   
pain.  
"Mother!" Angela cried, taking a step towards her before being  
hauled back by several arms.   
"Put the manacles back on her." Castaway told his men. They did  
so, clasping the struggling gargoyle's arms behind her and locking them  
in place. Angela winced at the tightness, but did nothing except hiss  
frightfully.   
Castaway tsk'd several times and kicked Demona in the stomach.   
"Now, now, monster, that isn't one of the correct responses."  
"Stop it!" shrieked Angela. "Just leave her alone! Leave all of   
us alone!" She twisted wildly in the Quarrymen's arms.  
Castaway ignored her and watched as Demona struggled to her feet,   
hisses of pain seeping from her lips as her wounds healed. "Let's have  
the next response be the right one, shall we?"  
"Very. . .well," sputtered Demona.   
"Mother, no!" said Angela harshly. "I'll be allright. . ." she  
said quietly. "Don't worry about me."   
Demona looked at Angela, surrounded by the Quarrymen, blanched,   
and shook her head slowly back and forth. "I cannot, Angela. I cannot  
let them do this." Her shoulders slumped as she turned to Castaway.  
"I am immortal by a sorcerous spell I cast on myself a thousand  
years ago. I cast the other at the same time to change to human form   
during the day, to better further my plans among your kind. I know of  
no other gargoyle clans, and in order to give you my full listing of  
accounts I would have to go back to my office safe. Anything else, oh  
mighty Hunter?"  
Angela grinned inwardly. If nothing else, her mother certainly was  
accomplished at lying through her teeth. She herself had been victim to  
it several times.  
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" said Castaway, grinning.   
"Then let her go, Castaway." Demona was calm, frighteningly calm.  
"Oh, I think not." said Castaway. He waved the men away, and they   
grabbed a hold of Angela and started out the door.  
"No!" Demona shrieked, taking a step forward and stopping when   
Castaway held his pistol at her head. "You promised, Castaway! Release  
her!"   
"I never did say I would release her." smirked Castaway. "But I   
have other plans for you, my dear monster. Since I obviously cannot   
kill you, no matter how wonderful that would be, I intend to use you.   
I have great plans, oh yes, very great plans. And to insure your   
loyalty, I'm afraid we will have to keep your daughter for a while   
longer." He laughed mockingly.   
Demona could hear herself whimper. Her body throbbed in pain, but  
she knew it was only the beginning. She was so stunned she couldn't form  
a clear thought.  
"Take her away, men." Castaway said. Angela could only stare at   
Demona, her terrified gaze locked onto her mother's equally   
horrified one.   
"NO!" Demona screamed, her face contorted with animal pain and  
rage.   
Castaway was unmoved. He waved away the men.   
Demona shuddered and slumped, wings drooping, head bowed.   
"Be strong, Angela," said Demona softly, gritting her teeth.   
"We'll get out of this."   
"I. . .I was about to say the same thing." said Angela softly.   
She fought against the insane feeling of laughter welling up inside her.  
Demona watched, sick fear engulfing her and swallowing her whole as  
Angela was dragged away, struggling mightily. Then she turned to   
Castaway. Through sheer force of will, from her reservoir of hatred   
for this human, Demona tapped strength and drew resolve. "You," she   
pointed at him with a talon, eyes burning scarlet, "are dead."  
"No," said Castaway calmly. He casually loaded a tranquilizer gun  
and shot her in the stomach. "But Goliath will be."  
She saw the room dim, and felt a jerk of pain in her scalp as   
her head hit the floor hard. "I. . .don' unerstan. . ." she mumbled   
before her jaw went slack.  
Hands grasped her own and she felt herself being  
dragged away. Her mind replayed Angela's stricken look repeatedly.  
~I'm sorry, Angela~  
And then, blackness smothered her.   
  
*****  
  
Angela thrashed wildly, fueled by terror, tail and wings buffeting   
the Quarrymen in increasing amounts. "Let me go!" she shrieked, eyes  
flashing ruby, and beginning to tear up. "Why are you doing this?"  
The hooded men said nothing, just grasped her limbs more forcefully  
and walked faster.  
She whipped her head around wildly, hoping to find somebody,   
anybody who would help, but all she saw as she streaked through the halls  
were more Quarrymen, who made rude gestures and laughed mockingly at her  
pleading, tear-streaked face.  
They arrived at a door that looked like all the others and entered  
a small room. A small sound escaped her throat as she noticed the copper  
smears all over the floor. Something had bled very badly here.   
She was strapped down to a bed frame, struggling all  
the way. She glared up in absolute defiance at the Quarrymen. "Do your   
worst!" she snarled, trying to hide the fear beneath her glowing eyes.   
As one loomed over her, she shut her eyes tightly and buried all  
that which was good and innocent deep within her soul.   
She could only hear herself inhaling and exhaling. There was   
no foul breath smelt, no rough hands chafing at her skin, no sickening  
feeling of invasion. . .she opened her eyes.  
Scared and trembling, she stared, wide-eyed at the hooded humans.  
"Well!?" she said. The waiting began to seem almost as terrifying  
as the actual events. "What are you monsters waiting for? I can take   
anything you swine can think of!"  
With a crack that snapped her head sideways, a Quarryman backhanded  
her. "Now listen, and listen good, gargoyle. We wouldn't so much as   
touch you for pleasurable reasons. We joined the Quarrymen to help wipe  
your kind off the face of the earth. I wouldn't lay my human hands on  
your skin for all the money in Ft. Knox," he hissed.  
She snarled, a spitting image of her mother and spat blood into   
his face. "How noble of you. Too bad it doesen't also cover   
assaulting bound gargoyles. Untie me and I'll give you what you deserve. Or are you too much of a coward?"  
"Uh-huh, and this is where we fly into a rage and untie you  
to prove our honor," snorted another. "Sorry, bitch, better luck  
next time."  
"Castaway will be in soon, gargoyle," said a third. "And then   
you'll wish we *had* used and degraded you." He chuckled darkly and  
they all walked silently out, slamming the door behind them.   
Angela exhaled sharply after they left, releasing built-up   
tension. She strained against her bonds, growling, then slumped back.  
Avalon only knew what Castaway had done to her mother. She trembled,   
remembering the unbridled fear of being. . .used in that manner.   
And what had become of the clan? She gritted her teeth as she   
realized they might very well have been slain. Her loving   
father, the Trio, even Hudson and Bronx. . .all gone. She had not even  
known them for a year of her life, and they meant so much to her. She  
vowed she would not die in this stinking hole. Snarling, she reknewed  
her thrashing and did so futiley untill Castaway walked in, smirking.   
"I highly doubt you'll break those, if your mother couldn't, you  
certainly can't."   
Angela growled low and kicked at him in response.  
"Ah, you're just as charming as your mother is," he chuckled   
darkly, standing at the foot of her bed.   
"Did you know, demonspawn, that she has slain thousands of   
humans over the centuries? Terrorized many an innocent populace   
and purposely murdered several a hundred times over? Why, if I hear   
right, your clan is her mortal enemy. . .and yet you defend her today.  
Why is that, I wonder?"  
Angela lifted up her chin defiantly. "She did what she had  
to do to survive," she said. But her voice was quavering.  
Castaway's eyes hardened. "And did she have to kill ten   
generations of my family to survive?"  
"You were hunting her," Angela said bitterly. "Like a forest  
creature. Why? So you could wipe out a threat to your family that   
had ceased to be 1000 years ago?"  
"My family swore vengeance, and with good right to do so!" He  
clenched his fist. "Your kind are not long for this world,   
I'm afraid."  
"My clan will stop you!" she said hotly. "Demona has hope,   
at least. She's been through so much over the centuries," she said   
sadly. "And I have no hope of ever getting her back if I   
speak of her with anger and treat her like she is a cold-hearted   
monster! She's had enough of that from everybody else to   
last an eternity!"  
"You speak as if I care about your opinion, beast. This is  
meaningless. And, as for your clan. . ." chuckled  
Castaway. "Without Goliath, they are nothing. I can pick them off  
at my leisure."  
She swallowed. "What do you mean, 'without Goliath'?"  
He smiled wickedly, relishing her puzzled look and his own   
plan.  
"Why, I set her free."  
"Her? You mean my mother?" Angela laughed. "You have yet to  
grasp the concept of humor, Castaway, it is eluding you at every step.  
"Why in Av-. . .why would you set my mother free?"  
"Ah, but there are special conditions to her freedom, my dear   
Angela," he said, cupping her chin. "As long as I have you,   
I have her on a very short leash indeed."   
"Wha. . .what do you mean?" she stammered. He laughed at her   
bewildered look.  
"Do you believe your mother loves you, Angela?"  
Her mind was still trying to process his previous words. "What?"  
"Do you believe that murderous demon is capable of love?"  
Angela stared straight into his eyes and nodded firmly. "Yes.  
It is her love for me which will redeem her." She had never been  
so sure of anything in her entire life.  
Castaway clapped his hands. "I'm so glad to hear you say that!  
I hope she is as well."  
She frowned.   
"You do not think she will abandon you to my. . .mercies?" he   
chuckled.  
Angela nodded again. "Not for anything in the world." she said  
softly.  
"Precisely!" crowed Castaway.   
His continued happiness was getting to her more than the threats  
and accusations. "What are you saying?" she said warily, biting her lip.  
"Why, nothing you haven't said, my dear. She will do anything to  
keep you alive, it seems. . .including killing the father of her own  
child."  
Angela went rigid.  
"What!" she yelled. A thousand thoughts and emotions thundered through her mind.  
"You see, I have set her free with very explicit instructions."   
Castaway said. He was enjoying himself immensely. "I sent her to kill my  
hated enemy, Goliath. The one who crippled my brother," he hissed. "My  
most hated foes at each other's throats. It will be a good show, don't you  
think?"  
Angela tried to regain control. "You're insane! My mother has never  
defeated Goliath!"  
Castaway chuckled. "Have you ever seen a lioness defend its   
cubs? A mother badger backed in a corner with it's children? A wolf  
mother protecting it's pups? Why, they fight like. . ." He smirked.   
"Demons. . ."  
"She won't kill him!" Angela yelled. "She can't bring herself to!"  
She said the last more to reassure herself.   
"Oh really? I know she hates your clan almost as much as she hates  
me. . .it shouldn't be to much of a stretch for her." He grinned. "She was  
quite happy about being sent to do this particular. . .assassination."  
That was a lie. . .it had to be. . .  
"She won't kill him. . ." she said softly to herself,  
repeating it over and over.  
"Oh, but with this great a threat, she will, I can assure you."   
Castaway said. "I am holding all the cards, gargoyle. If she kills   
Goliath, I will be rid of my brother's crippler." He smiled feverishly.  
And *you* will no doubt never be able to forgive her, and she will   
suffer in eternal torment, pushed over the edge finally. If I cannot   
kill her, I can at least make her suffer beyond all imagining!"  
Angela began thrashing around in her bonds, snarling loudly. "You  
won't win! I'll know the truth! And she won't kill my father! She   
won't!"  
Castaway smiled at her tirade and chuckled mockingly. "Oh, but I   
know better, little Demon. If she doesen't kill him, then all I need   
to do to repay her for her failure is to simply gut you like a fish."   
The coldness of that statement made her inhale sharply.  
"Your death will surely send your demonic parents into a much  
greater hell than I could ever fathom." He grabbed her hair and pulled  
it up to stare into her face. "You, the spawn of my foes, will be rotting  
in the ground. Your leader, stricken and hopeless, will fall easy   
prey to my Quarrymen. And then the rest of your clan will follow him   
back to the hell-pit from which you spawned. And your mother?  
Well, she will writhe in torment in a living hell of my own making."  
A small moan came out as she looked into his pale, ice-blue eyes.   
"Either way, demonspawn. . .I win."  
  
*****  
  
Elisa checked her watch again irritably. It was five minutes   
fast, so she kept fidgeting and waiting for the sun to finally   
vanish over the horizon and bring her friends to life. She bit her   
lip, having nowhere to begin telling Goliath what had happened. He   
heart beat faster with every minute.  
At last, the sun vanished over the horizon and she watched as   
cracks multiplied and spread along each stone form, finally exploding   
off to reveal the living being within.  
They all yawned and stretched and Goliath turned around and   
saw Elisa first.  
"Elisa," he stated her name warmly. "Good evening."   
He hadn't noticed yet, she could only plunge right in. "Yeah,   
hi Goliath, hi guys, listen, don't go off the deep end, but-"  
"Hey. . ." Lexington looked around. "Where's Angela?"  
~Damn.~  
"What?!" Goliath turned and focused for the first time at her   
perch, which was free of stone debris. "Angela?" he said to the   
empty spot, as if she were invisible only and was truly there in person.  
"Where is she?" Broadway said, tension forcing it's way   
past his throat. "Angela?" he called.  
"Guys. . ." Elisa said warningly.   
Bronx whined.   
"The lass is not here, Goliath!" said Hudson rapidly.  
"ANGELA!" shouted Goliath into the sky. He looked around wildy.   
Nothing.  
Brooklyn had peered over every edge and found nothing. "She's   
not on the lower rampart." he reported. His red nose turned toward   
Elisa finally. "Where's Angela, Elisa?" he said urgently.  
Elisa swallowed as the eyes of every worried gargoyle turned   
toward her. ~Get it over with.~  
"She was kidnapped by Quarrymen during the day."   
"What!" Goliath growled, hands clenching into fists. The   
others immediately grew grim-faced.  
"I'm so sorry, Goliath. Apparently, Xanatos's defenses weren't   
enough and they flew her away with a helicopter-" She felt herself   
suddenly and rudly shoved aside lightly into Broadway as Goliath stalked   
past her, a slight rumble growing in his chest, heading for the   
one place she didn't want him to go.  
  
*****  
  
"XANATOS!"   
Xanatos flinched involuntarily inspite of himself, and he   
inwardly congratulated himself on having the foresight to don   
his wingless exo-frame. Apparently, he'd missed the sunset.  
The door to his office slammed open, the door was nearly   
torn off his hinges and five gargoyles sporting various angry   
and frightened expressions stalked into the room. Goliath led   
the clan with eyes that were glowing so brightly they lit up the   
darkened room like it was engulfed in moonlight. He towered   
over Xanatos, who looked up at the seething eyes and bore it   
unflinchingly.   
"What has happened, Xanatos! Where is Angela?" Golaith   
demmanded hurriedly.  
"Didn't Miss Maza tell you?" said Xanatos simply.  
"Aye, she said she was abducted by the Quarrymen." said   
Hudson. "And that your defenses were. . .less than adequate."  
"What are you trying to pull now!" pressed Brooklyn.   
"I had nothing to do with this." Xanatos said. "I defended my   
home with what resources had on hand. I failed to prevent her   
abduction. I apologize. But we won't gain anything by pointing   
fingers. We need to concentrate on finding and getting her back."   
"This isn't a scheme, Xanatos? Why do I find that so hard   
to believe. . ."  
"Believe what you want, Goliath, I'm willing to help."  
"How do I know you didn't plan this!" growled Goliath.  
Xanatos simply turned and pushed a button on his desk which   
revealed pictures of the few cameras that Owen had gotten operational.   
He pointed to the one labeled infirmary. "That proof enough for you?"  
They all gasped as they saw in full color the bed-ridden   
form of Fox. Her cheeks were a pale, sickly white, her hair had   
lost it's former luster and as the gargoyles watched, her breast rose   
and fell weakly in time with the beeping of many moniters. "I may   
not be the most morally conscious man, but I would never do anything   
to harm my wife."  
Brooklyn, ever the suspicious one, narrowed his eyes.   
"Yeah. And I suppose giving her the Eye of Odin was just out of   
the goodness of your heart."   
"Watch your tongue, lad!" Hudson said harshly. But his gaze   
settled back on Xanatos warily.   
"I don't care what you believe, Brooklyn. If you wish, you can   
visit the infirmary right now. One of the old war room's in the   
lower west side. But this isn't getting us anywhere. We need a   
solution. We need to know if Demona's involved."  
"Demona!" Golaith rumbled. "What does she have to do with this?"   
"The Detective didn't tell you?" he said again.  
"I didn't have the time." said Elisa, walking into the   
office. "Someone pushed me away." she glared up at Golaith briefly   
before the painful expression on his face wore it away. "In any case,   
here's the deal. Last night, the office of Dominique Destine was   
found trashed and three Quarrymen were found dead at the scene. Ever   
since, no one has sighted her. And she was in her office at the time   
of the attack, secretaries confirmed that they had spoken to her   
minutes before they were to depart for the night. I think she was   
abducted as well, Goliath."  
"It could be a trick. . ." Golaith growled. "She is not above   
such treachery. She could have stolen her in some twisted plan to   
turn Angela against her clan. . . " He hissed. "Against me. . ."  
"The Quarrymen gargoyle-napped her, Goliath." stated Xanatos.   
I discovered as much. I asked one why they did so and he lied straight   
to my face."  
"Even if the Quarrymen did, why would they? They take no   
prisoners among our kind." said Goliath, mystified.  
"Aye, it makes no sense." pondered Hudson. "Castaway has a   
hatred of Demona, that we know, but why then, would   
he abduct instead of slay?"  
"Maybe he's realized his prey can't be killed." said Brooklyn.   
"But why steal Angela!" snarled Broadway suddenly. He gritted   
his fangs. "She's never harmed anyone!"   
"People like the Quarrymen rarely need to justify their   
actions." said Goliath in a low voice. "Much like Demona." he added.  
Elisa could see that Goliath was leaning toward a certain angle.   
"Xanatos, any luck finding out where they took Angela?"  
"I'm afraid I don't know, Detective." said Xanatos. "They   
headed south, so they could be anywhere within range of about 300 miles. . .that's the range of those kinds of helicopters with the amount of fuel they had. . ."  
"They've got to be somewhere. . ." Lex piped up softly. He   
had spoken for the first time.   
"You have an idea, Lex?" Broadway looked down.   
The little gargoyle nodded. "Yeah, I have an idea. But I'll   
need a computer and some privacy, please."  
"Here, use mine." Xanatos said, moving aside to let Lex hop   
up in the seat. The green gargoyle cracked his knuckles and began   
typing, eyes darting back and forth at characters on the screen.  
"Here now, let's give the lad some time to let him work." Hudson   
said, hustling them all out the door.   
Once the gargoyles were all out in the courtyard, they all   
slumped back against different parts of the wall, fidgeting in place,   
a thousand worried thoughts running through their heads.   
"I'm going to check on Fox. Come get me if there is any   
news." said Xanatos to the group, and then departed.  
After a total of 15 minutes, which seemed like an entire night,   
Brooklyn succumbed to the feeling of inaction and walked into the   
castle. He reappeared a minute later, growling softly.  
"Any luck?" asked Elisa hopefully from the wall where she was   
standing with Goliath.  
Brooklyn shook his head. "He threw me out and told me not to   
come back. . .I guess he's as worried as we are."  
"We all have hope for the lass, Brooklyn." said Hudson. "Don't   
worry, before ye know it she'll be here again getting her way with   
the lot o' ye with that smile of hers."  
Broadway slumped.  
Goliath closed his eyes and breathed deeply, over and over   
again. Elisa eyed him worriedly. "You gonna be okay?"  
"If Angela is not recovered? No, Elisa. . .I do not think I   
will be. . .'okay.'"  
"Angela's a big girl, Goliath." Elisa said firmly, putting a   
hand on his arm and clasping it to her ribs, squeezing his hand.   
"She'll come through."  
"I hope you are right, Elisa." said Goliath. "If something   
happens to her, I. . .I don't know what I would do. I fear for her life  
if Castaway is the cuplrit. . .but Demona would be a thousand   
times worse. . .for there is a chance she could corrupt her   
innocent spirit. . .and make Angela like herself. It would happen   
all over again. . ." He shuddered.   
"It won't." said Elisa, knowing that saying it wouldn't make   
it so, but not knowing what else to say.   
"Am I at fault?" he asked suddenly.   
"What are you talking about?" she said, looking up into his   
dark eyes. She saw great pain there, old, crusted over wounds that   
threatened to bleed aknew.   
"Am I responsible for Demona?"  
He felt Elisa's arm tighten around him. "That's a load of garbage."  
"Is it?" he said. "She was my beloved mate, a thousand years   
ago. Sweet, gentle and kind, much as Angela is now. . .my angel   
love." Abruptly, he realized who he was talking to and blushed. "I   
am sorry, Elisa. . .I am a fool for saying these things to you."  
She was silent for a long time. "No. . ." she sighed. "We need   
to get this out, Goliath. I know. . .you still feel for her. . .  
deep down. Or did, anyway." She cursed inwardly, angry at her   
awkwardness.   
"Yes," he said. "I did. I am sorry if that hurts you."   
"Sorry for loving someone? No, I'm okay with it, I can accept   
that. . .it's just. . .I wonder sometimes how you could love someone who so   
obviously hates you, tries to kill or enslave you on a nightly basis.   
She needs a good psychiatrist, not to mention a couple gallons of   
Thorazine a day."  
"You are speaking of Demona. Not the gargoyle I once loved.   
She had no name." he said softly. "You do not, you cannot know how   
it was between us, Elisa. The first time you met her was when she   
was trying to kill me."  
"Good point."   
He half-growled, half-sighed. "She distrusted humans, but   
we all did in some form or another. She grew to respect the   
Captain and even apprenticed herself to the ArchMage, though I   
disapproved. . .many times she took her roost with   
burn marks and bruises on her skin." He gritted his teeth.   
"She told me she was just practicing her fighting with the   
humans and it got a bit rough at times. . .I knew better.   
She just wanted to learn, her mind was hungry for knowledge.   
"She was my second-in-comand, strong, fearless, a cunning   
warrior. Off the battlefield, she was a dear friend and. . ." He bit   
his lip. "Mate." He tightened his grip on her hand as if to squeeze the   
unwanted, bitter memories away.   
A bit of wind snaked down to ruffle her hair.  
"The betrayal of the castle happened. I remember my helplessness,   
my fear and pain as I swooped low over the burning flames and saw no   
movement. When I saw what I thought were her remains, my heart felt   
as if it would crumble along with them."  
Elisa was having conflicting feelings...she wanted to tell  
him to be quiet and also to hug him half to death.  
"You know the rest. . .I cast myself voluntarily into the stone   
sleep because I had nothing and nobody, my clan was destroyed, my   
beloved was dust. . .I could not care for the eggs on my own."  
"And then you found her again after you woke."  
"Yes. . ." Goliath could not keep himself from smiling slightly.   
"She was so lovely I could only gasp, it was as if I had never left   
her side. When she smiled and spoke my name, I was whole once again.   
And our first glide together in a thousand years was, as I told her   
at the time, like a dream."  
His face then fell into the somber look she knew only too well,   
and Elisa pursed her lips in readiness for the coming confession.   
"I knew she disliked humans. But I had no idea how much.   
MacBeth only knows what she went through for a thousand years. . .  
but she was not the gargoyle I fell in love with anymore. She had   
transformed into a creature of pain and rage, incapable of love and   
so capable of hate. She has slaughtered so many to feed this hatred,   
I shudder still. Especially when I think of how much she hates you."   
He looked down at her and reflexively folded his wing half around   
her protectively.   
"Yeah, well, I have that effect on people." she said jokingly.  
He smiled and then looked back up at the stars, sparkling   
like crystal high above the cloud layer. "When I went to Xanatos   
and Fox's wedding I had the hope that I could reach her. I felt   
I must try. I owed it to myself and to the angel I once knew."  
"And you went back in time and saw Demona as she once was. . ."   
Elisa said. "Must've been like a person in a desert finding water."  
Goliath nodded. "An apt analogy. And now that I look upon that   
experience. . .I realize I was trying, unsuccessfully, to change the   
future. . .if I had succeded, my young angel would never have gone   
through with her part in unwittingly helping the slaughter of my   
clan. . .would never have become such a monster. I would still   
have my rookery clan. . .my love would be her true self. . .we   
would be in our own time." He sighed and then looked down at   
her wistfully. "But I would not have you, my Elisa."  
"Glad to see I still mean something to you." she said wryly.  
"Never forget it." he chuckled. "And Angela's arrival has only   
strengthened my resolve that I am glad to be here."   
"So. . ." Elisa licked her dry lips. "Why do you feel   
responsible for Demona?"   
"It was my foolhardiness, I suspect. . .I never encouraged any   
kind of strife or conflict among our peoples. . .even when it was   
needed for it's own good. Never struck back at an obscene gesture,   
never lashed out for a grievous insult, never halted for the spit   
that covered the floor where I was walking. . ." He sighed heavily.  
"Most did not understand that all it would take was one little  
response. . .and just maybe, the next night, a few of us would  
not be awakening.  
"I feel I forgot that not all the clan were as forgiving as   
I was."  
"And Demona, least of them all." Elisa stated.  
"Yes. She continuously put down the humans and we argued   
constantly over how to deal with them. They were the one thing   
that could strain our love. She thought I was too naive and sentimental,   
I thought she was to harsh and unforgiving. It did not start out that   
way. . .merely got worse the more tension there was. She  
was her normal self most of the time. I don't know   
what caused her to form the plan with the Captain. . .I'll always   
wonder who thought of the actual plan. . .what went through her   
head as she saw her clan shattered. And wonder if I started her   
down on her path. . .because I am what she calls me. . .a weak,   
sentimental, naive fool."  
He felt Elisa's small frame slip underneath his arms to stand   
in front of him and suddenly, the faint smell of wet locker room   
towels and gun oil and perfume filled his nostrils. She was hugging him, burying her head against his chest. "I'm here for you, big guy." she murmered.   
"I thank you." Goliath murmered in return. "Know that I will love   
you forever."  
She said nothing, merely tightened her hug.  
  
*****  
  
". . .geez!"  
"What is it?!"  
". . .of those monsters!"  
"Wha . ." Demona groaned and opened her eyes very slightly.   
Her head was pounding and she couldn't see, the light was blinding   
and *what* was that odorous stench?!  
"Where am I?" she said to nowhere. "How did I get here?" She   
put her hand to her head, and suddenly remembered unpleasant events.   
"Where's Angela!?" she said harshly, a desperate tone underlining it all.   
"Wow, it talks! Hey . . ." a voice slurred. "Mebbe it's   
worth sumthin'!"  
"To who, you lazy drunk, the zoo?"   
"Naw, haven't you heard the news?" He indicated the monster with   
a wave of his bottle. Tilting it up to recieve his latest drop of   
bliss, he crinkled his face as he discovered it was empty. "Things   
are killers!" he finished. "We're better off finishin' the job. . ."  
Demona could not keep the growl from seeping between her lips.   
She sat up and discovered she was lying in a pile of refuse. It   
stank abomidably, her sensitive nostrils twitched. And then there   
were the humans. . .  
"I have no time for this!" she snarled at the men. "Leave now   
and I will spare your pathetic little lives."  
"Hey! It's awake!" A grizzled little man with an obscenely   
red nose leaped back and crouched. "Get away, Bobby!"  
"Nah, it's. . .no problem," swayed Bobby. He broke the bottle   
along the rim of a dumpster and waved it threatingly. "Watch thish!"   
he said, grinning hugely. "Gonna bag me a monster!"   
Demona raised herself up to her feet, back against the wall.   
"I suggest you do as your friend says, drunken fool.". . ." she said   
curtly. "I repeat, I have no time for this."  
Bobby stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes vacant, as if he   
couldn't believe this thing had just spoke to him.  
"C'mon, Bobby!" hissed the other man.  
"Naw. . .no way is some. . .some. . .some 'thing' gonna chew   
me out n' get away with it." Bobby glared at his friend and took a   
step toward Demona and pointed the bottle at her.   
"Chew you out?" Demona tapped her claw repeatedly on her   
grinning teeth. "My, what a pleasant idea. . .unfortunately, I haven't   
the time, nor the stomach for you alley trash. . ." With a slap of   
her tail, the bottle went flying off into the darkness and the wino   
blinked suddenly as he realized she had flung him up against the wall   
by the hand that had held it.   
"Be thankfull I leave you with a working mouth able to close   
around a bottle, fool." With a squeeze, the bones in the wrist he   
dangled from were crushed and Bobby let out a low moan of pain.   
"Because you'll have trouble bringing anything to it for a while."   
She flung him down in to the garbage and stalked past the his   
cringing friend. Giving him one last snarl, she lunged up against   
the wall and began climbing, talons sinking deep into the brick.   
Reaching the top in minutes, she took a survey of her   
surroundings. She appeared to be still in New York, as she   
immediately spotted the Eyrie Building far away, a tiny iron and   
glass tower thrusting above the clouds. Further examination revealed   
her to be on Coney Island, south of Brooklyn. Why had Castaway   
brought her here? Why had he freed her? Her head spun around   
erratically, hoping, pleading that Angela was somewhere to be found,   
even though she knew it was futile. A turn of a head, the rounding   
of a corner, and there she would be, safe. She stalked the roof,   
clenching her hands so hard the knuckles whitened. Her daughter   
was in the hands of her most hated enemy and she had not the slightest   
clue of where to find her.  
She had a sudden wild idea to visit Goliath. . .he'd want to   
rescue her as much as she. . .perhaps he would listen. . .  
She laughed mockingly at herself. What was she thinking?   
Goliath wouldn't even listen to her when they had been mates, his   
own clan had been destroyed as a result of his fawning stupidity over   
the humans and she expected him to trust her now after all that had   
passed between them? Even he wasn't that naive. . .  
~He probably didn't even care that I was abducted. . .when at   
one time he would have glided through the blackest of storms to come   
to my aid~ she thought bitterly. ~Now that bitch, that *human*   
bitch, Maza, fills his nights. . .~ She shook away these unwanted   
feelings and thoughts and focused back on her daughter. As she   
clung to the tactile memory of Angela's all too brief embrace,   
fleeting ideas ran through her head and were discarded, one by one.   
She cursed herself because she had neglected to find out crucial   
information during her brief escape. . .like where the hell she had   
been taken! And now she didn't even know where to begin. . .   
And Angela would perish because of her. . .  
Demona suddenly shrieked in frustration and clawed at a small   
chimmney, tearing deep furrows in it. She had learned to laugh at   
death over the centuries, it no longer held power over her. This was   
different. This was death without dying. There was nothing she   
could do to save Angela and it only amplified her helplessness. She   
stalked around the rooftops, wanting, needing to take action, to dig   
her claws into Castaway's chest and strip away the flesh, muscle   
and bone, make him pay for all the hurt he had caused her and her   
daughter and her kind. Hot, angry tears brimmed at her lids, and she   
cried at her helplessness.  
She snarled and hurriedly wiped her eyes.   
This was no time to think of herself, her daughter needed her.   
Leaning back against a chimmney, she rubbed her temples and then let   
her hands flop loosely by her side.   
One brushed by her belt pouch. Something unfamilliar made   
it's prescence known, a light bulge that was not there before. She   
reached into it gingerly and pulled out a tiny round metal disk, it was   
puny against her clawed hand. She examined it, and found no markings   
save for a small button along the curved side. Since she had no fear   
of any traps, she pushed it.  
She flung it away in reflexive surprise when it beeped obscenely   
loud. It bounced and rolled along and she feared it would fall off   
the ledge, but it came to a stop.  
As Demona watched, a beam of light shot up from it to her eye   
level. It coalesced in to a humanoid form, and she frowned.  
As the human features became more distinct, her lips curled   
over her fangs and her eyes burned red once more.   
"Castaway!"  
"Greetings, Demon!" the image smiled menacingly.   
"What have you done with-"  
"I see you've found my little recording." he said, and Demona   
realized she was looking at a message. She curtailed her rage   
reluctantly and listened closely.  
"Perhaps your wondering why I sent you free. Well, actually,   
you're not really free. You see, monster, I still have your daughter.   
At the moment, she is having a most marvelous time 'entertaining' my   
Quarrymen." the image paused to chuckle softly.  
Demona went oddly calm at that statement. Her eyes closed   
slowly for a few seconds, then opened again. She was entirely numb,   
unfeeling, unblinking.   
"You see, " the image went on. "I have regretfully admitted   
that I cannot kill you and spike your head atop that harpy-nest   
Xanatos calls home. So therefore, I have decided to put you to   
work for me. There can be no greater punishment for you than being   
forced to do my bidding. . ." The face hardened. "Unless, of course,   
you do not."  
She turned away from the image and crossed her arms in a gesture   
of defiance.  
"Your first mission is simple for one of your abilities and your   
current state of mind, I believe. You will enjoy it as well.  
"I order you, Demon, to slay Goliath."  
Demona felt as if a bolt of ligthning had struck her. Her   
whole body went rigid. Her rage flinched and dropped from her mind,   
recoiling from and embracing the idea at the same time.  
"I believe you will find this satisfactory. I know you dearly   
wish to see him dead, that much was made obvious when you were our   
prisoner in that short span of time. Well, I grant you your wish.   
This time, I know you shall succeed, for you have the proper   
motivation." he smirked.   
"You kill Goliath, I spare your daughter, loathsome as that sounds   
to my ears. If you do not. . .well, let's just say that the Doctor is   
still able to use his 'other' hand. He is quite eager to begin despite   
his little setback at your hands. . .why, telling him that this specimen   
was your daughter just made him the happiest man alive. I would gather   
he now has a personal stake to consider, no thanks to you, gargoyle.   
Of course, with only one limb, his experiments might go a bit awry. . .  
your whelp might not survive."  
She bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly, a slight trickle   
squeezed from between an eyelid.  
"I care not how you do it, but you have this night to complete   
your mission. I know you shall not let me down, as you have no choice."   
the image continued. "When you have completed your task, push this  
button again. There is a beacon on it that will activate, signaling   
to me that you have completed your task. I shall come to you, to view  
Goliath's dead body. . ." Castaway grinned eagerly at this.   
"And you'd better make sure it's a safe place to view it, I don't want  
to be running headlong into any nasty traps.   
"Once I've had my fun, you may then return to your   
daily life, if you can, continuing your business during the day and   
the night. . .but know that I can reach you at anytime and I expect to   
be obeyed. You know the penalties. You will be hearing my voice for a   
long, long time, Demon."  
The image wavered. "Get used to it. For your daughter's sake."   
And it vanished.  
Demona stood there, hard and cold, black eyes smothering the fire   
within. Castaway was right. She had no choice. Angela would die, she   
would never grow up, never take a loving mate, never bear eggs of her   
own. . .never have a life. Demona sneered at her maudlin sentiments.   
Life with Castaway and his Quarrymen was worse than death. She would   
not worsen Angela's situation. She would find a way, she vowed.   
Castaway had made a crucial mistake, he had set her free. . .now it   
was only a matter of time until the Prey finally turned on the Hunter.   
If Angela died, Demona would have nothing left, she would be alone again.   
"If Goliath has to die so my daughter can live. . .so be it."   
she vowed. She had meant to say the words in a hardened and cruel   
tone, to voice her anger and pain, to rekindle the harsh feelings   
within her so other feelings. . .weak ones. . .would be smothered   
deep into the void of her soul.   
Demona suddenly felt the weight of her pain press down on   
her deeply, and she angrily threw it off. She was wasting time. She   
had no qualms about killing Goliath. . .she couldn't.  
It was her daughter she had to think about, not herself, not her   
race, not. . .Goliath. . .   
She suddenly felt the need to run away. The urgent need to fly.  
Spreading her wings, she ran to the edge and leaped off,   
letting out a blood-curdling howl, as if warning away all those  
who dared oppose her.  
Goliath would not survive this time.  
  
*****  
  
"I give up!" snarled Lexington, stalking out into the courtyard   
on all fours.   
"What?!" Brooklyn didn't believe he heard right.  
"What do you mean you give up?" frowned Broadway.  
Goliath and Elisa exchanged worried glances.  
"I've tried every trick I know, but I just can't find anything  
traceable!" sighed Lexington. "I searched for an abandoned hospital,  
military base, something like that south of here within the range  
of the helicopters, I searched for illegal missile trafficking, recently  
stolen helicopters, I even hacked into the F.B.I. for anything they might  
have on Castaway's whereabouts! I got nothing!" He sat back against  
a wall, slumping, and covered his face with his hands. "Angela's gonna  
die because of me..."  
"Dinna talk that way, lad..." Hudson said gently, laying a hand  
on his shoulder. "Ye tried your best."   
"We'll find a clue somehow, some way, guys." Elisa spoke up.  
"Castaway can't hide her forever. We'll get a sign soon."   
The blast of a laser rifle melted it's way into the stones  
above Broadway's head. They tumbled down, burying him with a shriek  
in rubble.   
The all snapped their heads towards the source.  
It was Demona. She stood on the front battlement.   
Carrying more guns than the National Guard, Elisa noticed in alarm.   
The gun in Demona's right hand dropped to the floor and she hefted   
another from the bag she carried over her shoulder.   
"Scatter!" shouted Goliath.  
He and Elisa ducked into the doorway, and Brooklyn and Lexington  
immediately began climbing the wall they leaned against, to try to take to  
the air. Hudson and Bronx stood their ground, sword and teeth gleaming.Demona launched herself off the front wall and immediately made  
her way towards Brooklyn and Lexington from above. They frantically tried  
to launch themselves away from the wall, even though they hadn't gone high  
enough, before the new gun she carried fired darts with pinpoint accuracy,  
two stuck in Brooklyn's back, and one in Lexingtons's thigh. They shook   
their heads, snarling weakly, and crash landed by the struggling figure of Broadway in a tangle of arms, legs and wings.  
Hudson roared. "Come on then, lass! I was the victor in our last  
battle and I'll be so this night as well!"  
Elisa watched as Demona landed a few feet from him. There was  
something strange about her, she thought. Something not right.   
Hudson charged, bringing his sword high up. He expected her to duck,  
or block it with one of her rifles, or attack him at the same time.  
Nobody was more surprised than he, when his blade sank into her left  
shoulder, slicing downward, nearly severing her arm, coming to rest just  
beside her armpit.   
Elisa stared, hauling back with all her strength on Goliath, stopping  
him from aiding his mentor.   
Demona did not scream in pain. She did not even blink. Her eyes  
weren't even glowing, Elisa noticed.   
She staggered slightly at the force of the blow, then looked into  
Hudson's eye, who stepped back in shock and surprise. Breathing  
heavily,Demona ripped the sword from her shoulder with her good arm and  
flung it back over her head. Hudson tried to leap away, but she flung  
herself forward, her fist catching him in the chin, sending him down like   
a felled ox.   
Bronx ran forward to protect his master, but was sent sprawling  
by a kick to the jaw that Demona delivered without even glancing down.  
She walked past the clan that she had finally beaten and without even  
breaking a sweat. Her arm slowly knitted itself back to it's shoulder,   
just fast enough that Elisa could see tissue re-forming with her own eyes, like time-lapse photography.   
She could also see what Demona was looking at.  
Her face was cold, neutral. Uncaring. Unfeeling.   
Her eyes stared straight at Goliath.  
Who was oblivious to her state of mind.   
"Where is Angela, Demona!" he roared. "What have you done with her!?"  
"Goliath, no-" Elisa began, when she was flung aside by a blue demon  
with fiery red hair, who slammed into Goliath, sending him onto his back,  
Demona's wrists clasped in his talons.  
Demona's face still remained emotionless. No battle-cry, no snarling,  
no curses, no threats. Goliath nearly let go in astonishment as his former  
loves eyes locked on to his and for the first time, Goliath could see  
nothing...  
Her talons inched closer to his neck, preparing to open veins and  
arteries, Goliath could not understand why he could not stop her, he was  
shoving with all his might, he tried to kick her off of him, but she sensed  
the movement and kneed him in the belly, then pressed downward with her full  
weight. He finally blanched in fear, near to panicking.   
The tips of her talons were less than an inch from his skin and she  
began to jerk her wrists, trying to rip and tear, Goliath strained with all  
his might but he might as have well been trying to lift Castle Wyvern off of it's foundation.   
Through the white haze of his vision, he heard off in the distance  
a sharp cracking sound and knew that Elisa had shot Demona, yet  
the clawing did not cease, her face did not waver, her eyes did not flare  
in pain, but were like twin pools of marble, cold and black.   
He heard Elisa shouting his name and prepared to join Angela in   
the afterlife, wherever she had gone...  
Then, miraculously, he felt the claws waver and cease their movement.  
The tremendous weight on him ceased and Goliath pushed her aside as she sat  
up, finally letting out a low moan and clutching her head. Her eyes locked onto his again, and she saw her teeth grimace in pain, a line of drool  
running down her chin and even as her eyes rolled back in her head she  
lunged at him again, through sheer force of will fighting whatever it  
was that had struck her down.  
He lunged backwards like a crab, but four bloody scratches appeared  
on his chest, and he snarled in pain. Then the marble eyes closed, and   
Demona slumped into unconciousness.   
The battle rage left him and he shook, trembling. He had never truly  
feared Demona before, but he had done so tonight. What could have changed her so?  
The sounds of the world came back to him, and he looked up, face  
pale as Elisa ran to him, hugging him tightly. He could barely find  
the strength to return it. "Are..." he coughed slightly, voice gruff.  
"Are the others all right?"   
"I don't know." Elisa said quietly. "They're alive, that's all I can   
tell from here."  
They hurried over to Broadway and helped him struggle out of the   
rubble. Brooklyn and Lexington's breathing was steady and they had a few  
bruises from crashing, but they would live. Hudson was groaning and shaking  
his head along another wall, and Bronx was still out cold, but alive.   
"What do you think possessed Demona to do this?" said Goliath,  
retrieving Hudson's sword and passing it to the grateful older warrior   
as he stood up finally.  
"I don't know, Goliath." Hudson wheezed. "She was unstoppable...like  
a storm."  
"I thought you were a goner." said Elisa. "I shot her in the back  
point blank and she barely flinched."  
"What could have happened to her that she would fall unconcious?"  
wondered Goliath.  
"Goliath!" called Broadway. They looked over to the blue gargoyle,  
who was busy tending to his two brothers. He pointed above them.   
Coming down from the sky was a small hovercraft, which whined as it  
landed in the courtyard. The engine shut off and the door opened.   
"Matt!" Elisa cried as the trenchcoated figure climbed out. "What   
are you doing here? Is that MacBeth's hovercraft?"  
"Yeah..." he groaned, cradling his right hand. Elisa saw the   
knuckles were black and blue. "What happened?"  
"Help me get him out of there and I'll tell you."   
Goliath peered in and rumbled in surprise. "He's unconcious."  
Elisa put two and two together. "Just like Demona."   
"Yeah." he said again. "We saw her attacking you when we scanned   
the place to see where we could land. We didn't have any time to try  
anything, she was already at Goliath's throat, so the Shakespeare refugee here asked me to knock him out. I didn't get it at first, but then it hit  
me. It took four punches. That guy has the hardest jaw I've ever hit in my  
life..." He shook his wrist again.   
"You both have saved my life." Goliath said. "My thanks."   
"All part of the job." Matt quipped. "You'd better put Demona  
somewhere safe before she wakes up."  
  
*****  
  
Angela had long ago given up trying to break her bonds. She silently  
counted the cracks in the ceiling and forced back dreadful thoughts  
of her clan perishing.  
For the thousandth time, she wondered if Goliath would die at her  
mother's hand tonight.   
No, she told herself. It wasn't possible. She knows he means too  
much to me. She also told herself that deep down, Demona still loved him,  
even though she also knew that was a naive and foolish thought, one that  
the old Angela, the innocent one from Avalon, would have embraced.   
Unable to force them back, a few tears escaped and trickled down  
her cheeks. Why had she ever left her home...to find her  
place in the world? Not the whole truth, she berated herself. She had been   
bored stiff, her interest in Avalon had dwindled, no matter how much she told herself otherwise. The clan was all she had, but she  
could have had so much more. She wished some of the others had come   
with her, she'd had a frantic conversation with some of her most trusted siblings before Goliath and Elisa left, but they all declined. Even   
Gabriel would not abandon his home to go with her. He could not break   
the ties. She knew they would have been mates by now if she had not left.  
He knew what they were losing as well, but he would not stand in the way   
of her wishes. They had been together too long for that.   
She chuckled slightly as she pictured Gabriel's reaction to   
Broadway. He would no doubt respect her choosing, but at the same time, wonder what in Avalon's name his sister had been thinking. Poor   
Broadway would take one look at Gabriel's leadership of the clan and  
his physique and practically hand her over to him in a fit of unworthiness.  
She had kissed Gabriel a few times, when they had experimented, imitating the Guardian and the Princess. His chin points had scratched   
her the first time, and he had nearly dropped dead in embarrassed shock.   
Angela missed her home now. But she would have never met Brooklyn   
and Lexington, always falling all over themselves to impress her, even now, when she had chosen Broadway. Hudson, who's beard had shocked her   
since none of the clan males were old enough to grow one. She had been too polite to show astonishment. Her father later said he was glad   
Hudson grew it, because a nasty battle with a harpy when he had been a   
young gargoyle had deeply scarred his neck, had nearly killed him. It   
had taken a week of stone sleep to fully heal him, his voice had not   
always sounded like a dragon with it's throat plugged.  
She would have never met her mother. Her mother who so greatly   
terrified and loved her. Who would butcher the human race without  
a second thought yet love her only daughter as if she were the most  
normal gargoyle in the world.   
And she was going to kill her father.   
Angela strained once again against her bonds.   
She cocked her head as she heard keys in the door once again.  
"Let me out of here!" she yelled for the hundredth time as five  
Quarrymen shuffled in. They ignored her and held her down as one released  
the manacles clamping her arms to the table, refastening them behind her  
back, around her wings, which kept them from spreading. Helping her off  
the table, she immediately went limp.   
One hissed in exasperation. "Stand up or we'll drag you by your hair."  
Angela grimaced and stood up. She had a feeling pulled hair  
would be the least of her problems where she would be going.   
They walked out and through the hallways again. This time they   
were empty, and Angela wondered where they had gone. She grimaced as she   
saw where they were going. Right back to where they came from. She recognized that door.   
"Please." she said slowly. "If you have any heart at all, let me go."  
She would not allow herself to break down again in front of these humans  
who had no business being part of humanity.   
They said nothing, just tugged on her arms more forcefully, guiding  
her in.   
"Ah, welcome back, Angela." Castaway said, smiling as the door  
closed. She was strapped down to the strange table and a short little man  
with a funny beard stood next to her. One of his hands was wrapped and in   
a sling.   
"Don't call me by my name." she snapped. "It's an insult."  
"Is it? Really? Thank you, my dear, I'll address you by that from  
now on."   
"What do you want?" she growled, eyes flashing red.  
"How very like your mother you are..."  
"I'm nothing like her!"  
"Ah, but you are...you are her child after all. It's genetics."   
"What do you want!" she asked again, voice rising.  
"Merely information." he said. "You see, my dear, during those  
glorious times when my brother and sister joined me in the Hunt, we deduced  
that the gargoyles here in Manhattan were the very same six that Xanatos  
brought over from Scotland."  
"So?"   
"So...then one day out of nowhere comes a lovely piece of stonework  
that has your name written all over it. I'll be blunt. Just where in  
the world are you from...*Angela*?"  
She was frozen. Tongue-tied. She blinked twice, picturing an invasion  
of Quarrymen on Avalon's shores with their hammers, smashing them to rubble,  
the Guardian's armor dented from many blows, the Princess lying broken and  
bloodied for raising these 'demons...' She had no idea if the Children  
would protect or help them, but it wasn't wise to count on beings whose  
views changed on a whim...  
"I won't tell you."   
"That's exactly what your mother would say. Only she'd use more  
profanity. You'll have to work on that."  
She snarled a curse she'd once heard her mother use once during  
the time when she'd guarded her in the Labrynth.  
His eyebrows raised. "Well, *I'm* impressed. Unfortunately, words  
won't save you. In fact, I doubt anything will.  
"You see...your mother has the good fortune to have withstood  
several hundred years of pain and dying and the like. Also that frankly  
*irritating* healing ability. This enabled her to withstand my admittedly  
messy interrogation techniques."  
He nodded to the little man standing next to him, who grinned from   
ear to ear and went around behind her head. Angela looked up and sideways  
at his upside-down face and blanched.  
"That is one thing you haven't inherited."  
He wielded a tool that looked like a pair of hand clippers for plants,  
only the blades were serrated and huge. The Doctor slipped them around  
one of her fingers on her left hand and closed it just enough so she could  
feel the metal touch her, grazing the sensitive skin. He did the same  
to each of her fingers, tormenting her. He waved the blades scant inches  
away from a wing rib.   
Angela's lip trembled and she snapped her huge eyes back to Castaway.  
"I...won't...t-tell...y-you..." she stammered, shaking. Her eyes darted  
back to the blades, then she could not keep tears from coming to her eyes.  
"They'll stop you!" she shouted.  
He sighed, as if he'd heard it all before. "Yes, yes...are you going  
to tell me or not?"  
"Never." She braced herself.  
"Your entire clan won't live to see sunset." he hissed. "I'll smash  
your father, torture your mother, and make things up as I go along with  
the rest of your clan, and then I'll go after the rest of your kind,  
wipe the gargoyle race from the face of the planet! Would you like that,  
Angela!?" he yelled the last inches from her face.  
She ignored him, turned her face away.   
He straightened. "Very well. Doctor, amuse yourself. But leave her  
alive. That is all I wish."  
She heard him stalk out the door.  
She would not look at the little man behind her. She closed her eyes,  
clenched every muscle in her body, and waited.  
The metal blades slid closer together.   
"I promise this will hurt."  
  
*****  
  
"Ye've quite the right hook, Matthew." MacBeth groaned, rubbing his   
jaw.   
"Thanks." Matt chuckled. "You've got quite a jaw."  
"Where's Demona?"  
"She's in a cell in one of the lower levels of the castle." Xanatos  
said.  
Human and gargoyle sat in the infirmary, in the very room Fox lay in,  
her chest rising and falling slowly and steadily.  
"Why didn't you help us in the first place?" Elisa accused Xanatos.  
"I had to stay with my wife, and Owen had to stay with Alex." Xanatos  
shrugged. "Besides, I was confident you and your friends could handle the  
situation."  
"I'll handle you-" Brooklyn began to rise, but Hudson shoved him back  
down with a frown.  
"Guess my plan to use you to find Demona is useless now." Matt  
grumbled.  
"It was a good idea at the time, lad." MacBeth said.   
"If you're awake, then Demona must be as well." Goliath said. "She  
must be questioned." He stood, all the gargoyles stood with him. "No."  
he rumbled, glancing around. "I fear seeing the entire group will anger   
her further, make her even more suspicious. We need answers. MacBeth   
will come with me. We know her best."   
"I helped raise her, lad..." Hudson began, but Goliath cut him off.  
"That gargoyle you knew is gone, old friend." he said quietly.  
Hudson sighed as they left. "Aye." he said simply.   
  
*****  
  
MacBeth and Goliath walked down the corridor towards the cell. Goliath noted that MacBeth had a surprised look on his face.  
"Is something wrong?"  
"I...I can't sense her." MacBeth looked up at the lavender gargoyle,  
frowning. "This close, with all that's happened, I should be feeling worse  
than ever...but I feel nothing."  
"How strange." said Goliath after a moment, not knowing what else to  
say.  
"Careful now." MacBeth said as they reached the cell. "Be on your  
guard."  
"Always." Goliath murmered.   
They looked in on Demona, behind bars.  
She sat in the darkness, out of the way of the small light set  
recessed into the ceiling. Her wings were curled tightly around her, her  
forehead resting her knees.   
"Demona." rumbled Goliath. "We would speak with you."  
Slowly, the head raised, and Goliath beheld a haunted gaze. Her  
face seemed to accurately depict the number of years she had lived.   
"Why wouldn't you die?" she asked softly.  
"Why did you attack us?" Goliath countered. "Do you know where Angela  
is?"   
"Angela..." Demona said slowly, savoring the word. "You've killed her, you know."   
Goliath hissed. It took him considerable effort not to rip the bars  
open. "What are you talking about!?"   
"What do you care, Goliath?" Demona spoke without any emotion. "She  
was going to die anyway. It's your fault. You took her off of Avalon. She  
could have lived there, safe and happy...not entered this horrible world  
full of humans that would would hate and fear us."  
"Angela chose her path of her own free will." Goliath said slowly.   
"You could have stopped her. Guided her differently. She would never  
have to know fear. Know pain. Lose her innocence. Seen how her mother   
is a clanless, evil, twisted monster...isn't that what you all call me?"  
"She hugged me." Her voice trailed off, and she looked past them.  
"She loved me still." she smiled slightly. "At least I will have fond  
memories..."  
"Where is she, Demona." MacBeth asked, more of an order than a  
question.   
She noticed him seemingly for the first time. "Well, well. Graybeard  
himself. Please kill me."  
"What?!" MacBeth thought he was hearing things.  
"You heard me. Kill me. It's what you want, is it not? Well, here I am. Open the cage and strangle me. Or take that electron gun I see bulging  
in your pocket and shoot me. I will not stop you."   
"We have no time for this." Goliath growled, interrupting. "We must  
find Angela and rescue her. I know you know where she is, so stop playing  
these games and tell me where I can find her!"   
"SILENCE, GOLIATH!" Demona shouted suddenly.   
MacBeth suddenly winced and groaned.   
"She's dead, do you understand me with that weak and sentimental   
brain of yours? That wretched Hunter Canmore kidnapped us and is holding  
her hostage! I tried to stop them, but I couldn't even prevent them from  
taking her away to ra-...to...oh, my daughter!" Demona was hysterical now, wringing her hands and trying fuitily to hold back tears. "She wanted me  
to be strong, but I can't do it anymore, I can't protect her, I can't kill  
you, I can't stop the humans from hurting us, All I CAN DO IS DIE!"   
"No..." Goliath moaned. If Hudson were there, he would have  
recognized it as exactly the sound Goliath had made as they had swooped  
low over the massacre at Castle Wyvern. "No, it's not true..."  
MacBeth was slumped against the wall, gritting his teeth. The pain  
Demona was emitting was palpable...  
"It is, Goliath." Demona sobbed, slumped back down. "I could not protect her. Castaway ordered me to kill you, or he would kill her in ways even I might find hideous. I have failed. I have failed you too, in a way.   
I have killed our daughter. My only daughter..." She bit her lip. "I   
have nothing and no one left. I...I just want to close my eyes forever." She turned back to MacBeth. "I ask you again...my ageless foe, he who was once my closest friend. You gave me a name. Now give me the death we crave."   
"I...I no longer seek death." MacBeth said sadly. "I know   
exactly how you feel, Demona. I am sorry, but I cannot grant you this."   
"What? This can't be..." she said, real fear behind her voice.  
"But...you...how..."   
"When I was able to love again, I knew life was worth living.  
Dominique gave me that love."   
"I...you...no! You have to kill me!" she pleaded.   
"Demona..." Goliath spoke slowly, trying to regain control of   
himself. "How would Castaway know I was dead?"   
Demona brought out a small disk from her pouch. "Once you are dead,  
I was to press this in a safe place with proof of your demise...then he  
would come to me. I had this night to do it in. When the sun rises...  
come next night we will no longer have a daughter." She walked forward   
and placed her hands upon the bars.   
"Then she lives yet..." mused Goliath. "We can rescue her..."  
"I don't know where she is." snapped Demona. "In my stupidity, I  
failed to learn where we were being held. Castaway drugged me and left me  
in the city. I wouldn't know where to start looking."  
"Lexington failed to find them as well..." Goliath said, worry once   
again creeping into his features.  
"Then...there is no hope." said Demona softly. She looked at MacBeth.  
"I must do this. You have to kill me."   
MacBeth reached between the bars and took her hand. For the first  
time in centuries, he touched not in anger, not in hatred, but in  
understanding.   
"I know how you feel, Demona." he said slowly. "For 900 years, I  
knew. But you have the opportunity to stop this travesty now, to spare  
yourself another millenia of pain and suffering. You can help us save  
Angela. She makes life worth living for you. She's your love. Your life."  
"But...but I..." Demona stammered.  
"She IS alive, Demona." Goliath continued. "I will not accept  
otherwise. We have six hours. We can find her. We will save her. We can  
somehow use this disk to our advantage..."  
"Aye." MacBeth nodded. "Please, Demona. For Angela's sake. You  
think she wants you to die?"  
Demona looked at them both, eyes reddened from tears instead of rage.  
"All right." she said. "I just hope she's still alive. And..." she  
shuddered. "...unharmed."   
"You will behave yourself among the clan." Goliath warned.   
"Yes, my Leader." Demona said, using an old term which made him wince.  
She hurridly wiped her eyes and chuckled bitterly. "You never did truly  
want the position. Too bad you were so damn good at it."  
"Yes..." muttered Goliath.   
"Besides..." MacBeth said. "If you think I'm going to spend the next  
millenia like I did the last, you're crazier than Castaway..."  
  
*****  
  
Eyes turned and opened wide as the door to the infirmary swung open. "Lad..." Hudson said, hand firmly on Brooklyn's shoulder.  
"D'ye know that your former second-in-command is standing right behind  
you?"  
"Yes." Goliath said, glaring at him. "Humor does not become you in  
these trying times, mentor."   
"So I assume Demona will be working with us to retrieve Angela?"  
Xanatos stated.  
Goliath nodded. "She has a crucial part to play in the plan.   
It would not work without her. And...she does have a personal stake in  
this."  
"What?" Brooklyn cried. "Goliath, she just attacked us! She's  
probably got a hold of Angel-"  
"NOT another word!" said Goliath loudly, cutting him off, glancing  
swiftly at Demona, who's eyes were already glowing faintly. "All of you,  
any grievances that Demona has with us are to be put aside for this night.  
This is for Angela's sake." He eyed Brooklyn, until the young gargoyle  
growled under his breath and nodded sharply.  
"So she knows where she is?" piped up Lexington.  
"This disk will bring Castaway to us." Demona said, holding it up.   
"At that time, I will show him the proof that Goliath is dead, and  
hopefully, he will believe me, and return Angela to us."   
"And while we're all in fairy-tale land, what will he really do?"  
snorted Brooklyn.   
"Impertinence does not a second-in-command make, young one." snarled  
Demona lightly. "He'll lead us back to his base, and therefore, to   
Angela."  
"You wouldn't be leading us all into a trap, would you Demona?"   
Elisa said cooly, glaring at her.  
"This is for my daughter, human." Demona glared back. "It is a gargoyle affair. Stay out of it."  
"Angela means more to me than a trump card against Goliath."  
Demona's eyes flared, and she nearly sprang at Elisa before Golaith  
clapped his hands onto her shoulders. "Enough of this!" he growled.   
"We must suspend our differences until this is resolved."  
Demona straightened, and gritted her fangs, the color fleeing from  
her eyes. "That is not so, human." she said quietly, voice full of venom.  
"And the fact that you care for her is due to the fact that you will,   
sadly, never have children of your own." Her eyes flicked back and forth between Goliath and Elisa, lip curling.  
"That was a cheap shot." Elisa muttered. She didn't move, however.  
Xanatos cleared his throat. "If you're all quite finished,   
we have a gargoyle to rescue."  
"What's the proof you're going to show Castaway?" asked Broadway.  
Demona looked at Xanatos. "I was hoping perhaps you could help us  
on that angle."   
Xanatos bowed gallantly. "A pleasure to be working with you again,   
my dear."  
Bronx whined and covered his head with his paws.  
  
*****  
  
An hour later, each of them were flying on the winds of the night,  
Xanatos taking the point, fires from his engines of his repaired exo-frame  
lighting the way. Goliath  
had not asked him to go, but he'd be damned if someone was going to attack  
his castle and injure his wife and not get away with it. As he put it, "An  
example must be made."   
MacBeth had not gone. He had argued that he was Demona's one physical  
weakness, if the Quarrymen learned of the link, then neither of them would   
ever be safe again. He stayed to help Owen repair the castle and to help  
him with Fox and Alexander. Elisa and Matt had gone back to the police station to fend off or marshal the forces, whichever came first.  
They were headed towards the Cloisters. Brooklyn had suggested  
it, saying it was 'quiet and peacefull, perfect for an uninterrupted scam.'  
Demona had said nothing, just quietly clenched the bag in her arms.   
They had even taken Bronx along, there was no telling how many Quarrymen   
there would be along with Castaway. Demona had pressed the button as they  
left, giving Castaway time to gather his forces and just perhaps, Angela,  
and bring them here.  
They landed where Xanatos bade them, roosting in the trees by a small  
clearing where a path led clean through. He himself sat on the roof of one  
long arc of the building and waited, telescoping his night-vision lenses to see clearly into the heart of the clearing. The lights normally lining  
the path were dark.   
They all waited, not patiently. The Trio carved doodles into the   
wood with their claws, Demona and Goliath scanned the skies intently,   
and Hudson made himself comfortable, knowing that the waiting would  
come easiest for him.   
After fifteen minutes or so, Bronx perked up an ear. Hudson noticed  
it first. "Someone's coming. All of you, be ready."  
They refrained from letting their eyes glow, as it would have given  
them away. Soon the whup-whup of a helicopter filled their ears and  
the great machine appeared over the tops of the trees. It was quieter   
than usual, and they all realized it must have some sort of silencer affixed  
to it's engines. A spotlight flooded to life and stabbed down, followed by six ropes. Six Quarrymen in battle armor  
shimmied down, hammers charged and ready, guns out. Demona silently   
climbed down the tree she was in, package slung over her shoulder.   
"Demon!" one of the Quarrymen called. Demona recognized the muffled  
voice as Castaway's. He tore off his hood. "I know you're out there!"   
His voice was filled with triumph. "Come out!"   
"Do you have my daughter?!" Demona called in return, stepping out   
from her hiding place onto the clearing near the spotlight's edge.   
"Ah, there you are!" grinned Castaway like a wolf. "Show me   
proof that Goliath is dead."  
"First, my daughter, Hunter."   
"Temper, temper!" Castaway wagged his finger. "Stop stalling."  
Without a word, Demona handed over the sack.   
Castaway took it from her. "I know you know we have your daughter,  
so you wouldn't be foolish to try any tricks...but just in  
case..." He handed it to the Quarrymen next to him, who scanned it with some  
sort of hand-held device. "It's clean."   
"Thank you, my good man." Castaway took back the sack. "Now...let us  
see the proof!" And he reached in and pulled out an object.  
"Magnificent..." Castaway breathed in awe. "It...it's beautiful..."  
He held by one lock of hair, a disembodied head. Large, chiseled  
features were in a position of shock, eyes open nearly as large as the  
fanged mouth. Lavender skin matted with a touch of blood covered it.   
"The head of Goliath..." sighed Castaway happily. "I wish I could have  
seen it happen..."  
"It was a quick death." said Demona calmly. Her face was a  
mask. "I took him by surprise. The rest of the clan is grieviously  
injured."  
"Excellent, excellent!" he laughed wickedly. "I can't wait to show  
this to your darling daughter..."  
"Then she IS here?" said Demona pleadingly. "I did your dirty work,  
now let me see my daughter! Give her back to me, Hunter!"  
He tossed her a small box. "I have something for you as well!"   
he grinned.   
"I'll talk to you soon, Demon, I've got big plans for you!"  
He started back up the rope, clenching the sack like it was a fortune.  
The others followed him, holding their hammers and guns out.  
"Wait!" shrieked Demona. "Please!" GIVE HER BACK!"   
But her only answer was Castaway's mocking laughter as the   
helicopter flew away.  
Demona looked down and clenched the small box in her hand, gritting  
her teeth. She couldn't open it. She wanted to throw it away, throw it  
into the deepest hole she could find.   
She heard a swooping sound and knew the gargoyles were behind her.  
Xanatos flew down a moment later.  
None of them spoke, then Hudson came forward. "What is it, lass?"  
"I...I don't know..." she said in a piteously small voice.   
Hudson gently pried her fingers from it, and took it away from the  
group. He opened it, and peeked in.  
Demona paled as she saw his wings droop and a low growl came from   
the old soldier's mouth.   
"What?" Lexington said sharply.  
"What is it?" Broadway cried.  
Hudson looked at them all helplessly, bit his lip, and revealed what  
was inside.  
Demona let out a frantic shriek and turned away, covering her face  
with her claws. Goliath fought the urge to run over and hold her close,  
wondering if she was feeling the same way. He growled beneath his teeth  
and held back the rage and anger for later this night, as they all stared  
in helpless horror at the object Hudson held.  
A gargoyle's wing claw.  
"That...that monster!" snarled Brooklyn. Broadway frantically wiped  
away tears that threatened to overcome the sensitive gargoyle.   
"When I get ahold of him I'm gonna make him wish he'd never been  
born!" growled Lexington.  
"I'm sorry to be blunt, but now we know where he's going." Xanatos  
said, holding up a tracking device. "Now that she's in no danger of  
imminent death, we can proceed. This will lead us right to her."  
"Let us go." Demona said. Her voice trembled. She was so tired. "I  
long to put an end to all of this."  
"I as well." growled Goliath.  
The other's nodded firmly. There would be no more words spoken  
tonight.   
"Follow me." Xanatos took off, flying away into the darkness.  
The gargoyles climbed a tree, feeling much as they all did  
during the night of the Massacre...there would be no quarter asked, and  
certainly none given. Eyes flared white, claws flexed and wings spread.  
They leaped off, following the tiny flares of yellow light that marked   
Xanatos. A hunt had begun.   
  
*****  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
Goliath's inablility to forgive Demona...very sad, poignant.  
  



End file.
